RICHARD  ASHMOLE 

COOPER. 


"(Sreat 

E 

PROFESSOR    ERIC    S.    ROBERTSON,     M.A. 


LI*E    OF  HAWTHORNE. 


LIFE 


OF 


NATHANIEL     HAWTHORNE 


BY 

MONCURE    D.    CONWAY 


LONDON : 

WALTER   SCOTT,    24   WARWICK   LANE. 

NEW  YORK:  3  EAST  I4TH  STREET, 

AND  MELBOURNE. 


fS 

Ittl 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFACE 9 


CHAPTER  I. 

New  England  Puritanism ;  Hawthorne's  ancestors ;  birth  at 
Salem,  July  4,  1804 ;  early  days  and  traits  of  character  ; 
removal  to  Raymond  (Maine);  returns  to  Salem  to  school; 
attempts  journalism  as  a  pastime  ;  early  reading  in  litera- 
ture ;  doubts  as  to  the  choice  of  a  profession ;  goes  to 
Bowdoin  College,  1821  ;  friends,  life,  and  scrapes  there  .  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

Graduates,  and  returns  to  Salem,  1825 ;  his  own  account  of 
his  lonely  life  at  Salem  from  1825  to  1838  ;  his  sister-in- 
law's  account  of  this  period,  and  of  his  literary  career  to 
the  publication  of  "The  Scarlet  Letter";  "Fanshawe," 
his  earliest  romance  ;  his  objection  to  enter  any  profession, 
especially  the  ministry  ;  the  w  (Hawthorne)  in  the  family 
name  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .28 

CHAPTER  III. 

Magazine  contributions  of  1830-38 ;  becomes  editor  of  The 
American  Magazine  of  Usejul  and  Entertaining  Know- 
ledge, 1836  ;  specimens  of  his  contributions  to  this  maga- 
zine ;  writes  "  Peter  Parley's  Universal  History " ; 
favourable  notice  of  his  stories  by  the  London  Athencezim> 
1835  ;  expresses,  in  a  letter  to  Longfellow,  his  dissatis- 
faction with  his  long  seclusion  at  Salem,  1838  .  .  .42 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

PAC.E 

Hawthorne's  susceptibility  to  the  influence  of  beauty ;  deceived 
by  a  coquette,  he  challenges  a  friend,  but  the  matter  is  ex- 
plained ;  far-reaching  and  unfortunate  results  of  this 
challenge ;  his  four  years'  engagement  to  Sophia  Amelia 
Peabody,  1838-42 .  .58 

CHAPTER  V. 

"  A  Virtuoso's  Collection,"  based  on  the  idea  of  the  Wandering 
Jew;  William  Austin's  story  of  "  Peter  Rugg,  the  Missing 
Man";  Hawthorne's  "Wakefield"  a  rationalization  of 
this ;  his  originality  ;  his  early  works  free  from  the  mysti- 
cism of  his  later  writings  ;  influence  of  transcendentalism  ; 
and  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress";  "The  Celestial 
Railroad  "  (1843)  J  nig  l°ve  °f  classical  legends  and  fairy 
tales;  the  first  series  of  "Twice-told  Tales"  published, 
1837  ;  finds  literature  does  not  pay  ;  becomes  weigher  and 
ganger  at  Boston  Custom  House,  1839;  his  two  years  there  67 

CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Grandfather's  Chair"  (1840);  "Twice-told  Tales";  Haw- 
thorne joins  Brook  Farm  Community,  1841  ;  his  friends 
and  life  there  ;  finding  he  is  out  of  place  at  Brook  Farm, 
he  leaves,  1842;  Brook  Farm  and  "The  Blithedale 
Romance  "  ;  marries  Sophia  Peabody,  July  9,  1842  .  .  83 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Hawthorne  and  his  wife ;  they  settle  at  the  Old  Manse,  Con- 
cord ;  their  slender  means  ;  Longfellow's  "  Evangeline  " — 
the  theme  borrowed  from  Hawthorne,  who  had  intended  to 
use  it ;  the  Old  Manse  ;  life  there  ;  his  friends  at  Concord ; 
his  relations  with  Emerson  ;  their  intercourse  at  Concord  ; 
Hawthorne's  first  child  (Una)  born,  1844 ;  his  feelings  on 
the  occasion ;  he  is  appointed  Surveyor  of  Customs  at 
Salem,  1846 91 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Salem;  Hawthorne  as  a  Customs'  officer  ;  his  personal  charac- 


CONTENTS.  1 

PAGE 

^__  teristics ;  unpopularity  at  Salem  ;  his  son  Julian  born, 
1846  ;  his  home  life  at  Salem ;  the  unpleasantness  of  his 
position  at  the  Custom  House  and  in  Salem  generally ; 
on  a  change  of  Government  the  political  parties  in  Salem 
unite  to  oust  him  ;  his  correspondence  on  the  subject ; 
he  quits  the  Custom  House,  1849  '>  a  Salernite's  explanation 
of  Salem's  apparent  ill-treatment  of  Hawthorne  ;  unex- 
pected financial  help  in  his  difficulties  ;  a  testimonial  from 
his  friends — correspondence  connected  therewith  .  .  105 

CHAPTER  IX. 

"The  Snow  Image,"  "The  Great  Stone  Face," and  other  tales 
written  in  1848;  "  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  1850 ;  its  success  ; 
his  treatment  of  Salem  and  its  people  in  "  The  Scarlet 
Letter";  its  merits  and  its  morality;  a  pathetic  theme 
and  hardly  a  pathetic  passage  in  the  book  .  .  .121 

CHAPTER  X. 

Removal  to  and  life  at  Lenox,  Mass.,  1850;  "The  House  of 
the  Seven  Gables,"  1851  ;  its  characters  and  chief  merits  ; 
its  success  ;  "  A  Wonder  Book  for  Boys  and  Girls  "  (1851), 
and  "  Tanglewood  Tales"  (1853);  their  method  and  merits  ; 
birth  of  his  daughter  Rose,  1851  ;  his  still  straitened  cir- 
cumstances— views  on  life  insurance;  removes  to  West 
Newton  and  there  writes  "  The  Blithedale  Romance," 
1851;  purchases,  and  moves  to,  "Wayside,"  Concord,  1852; 
death  of  his  sister  Louisa  . 132 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Hawthorne's  "campaign  biography"  of  Franklin  Pierce;  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  work  was  undertaken  ;  Pierce's 
character ;  Hawthorne  as  a  defender  of  slavery ;  he  is 
appointed  to  the  Liverpool  consulate,  1853  ;  the  value  of 
the  consulate ;  the  causes  of  his  unfavourable  impressions  of 
England ;  his  avoidance  of  English  authors  ;  a  despatch 
concernirig  the  seamen  on  American  ships  ;  his  association 
with  Delia  Bacon,  the  anti- Shakespearean  apostle ;  stays 
in  London  on  his  resignation  of  the  consulate  in  1857  .  143 


8  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Hawthornes  visit  Rome,  1858-9  ;  friends  there  ;  Rome  in- 
spires "  Transformation  "  ;  its  merits  and  defects;  why  the 
work  was  necessarily  inconclusive;  the  characters  more 
American  than  Italian  ;  Una  Hawthorne  the  original  of 
the  Hilda  of  "  Transformation  "  ;  her  character  ;  she  falls 
ill ;  her  oratory  in  the  Villa  Montauto  at  Florence ;  her 
illness  leaves  her  a  religious  enthusiast ;  her  later  troubles 
and  death  (1877);  Hawthorne's  own  spiritual  development 
typified  in  the  character  of  Hilda  ;  the  gradual  awakening 
of  [his  religious  sense  under  the  influence  of  Rome;  old 
Roman  legends  replaced  by  those  of  "  Transformation  "  ; 
his  view  of  the  lessons  taught  by  Rome ;  his  impressions 
of  Rome  ;  Hawthorne  as  an  art  critic  ;  the  period  at  which 
he  began  to  be  affected  by  pictures  of  the  Virgin  ;  a  visit 
to  Florence ;  experiences  of  and  views  on  spiritualism ; 
his  feeling  for  Rome  ;  Rome's  ignorance  of  him  .  .160 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Hawthornes  return  to  England,  1859;  Henry  Bright's 
"Song  of  Consul  Hawthorne;  "  "Transformation"  pub- 
lished ;  the  success  of  his  second  stay  in  England  ;  it  came 
too  late  to  remove  old  impressions  ;  his  final  longing  for 
England 192 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Hawthornes  return  to  America,  1860 ;  Hawthorne's 
appearance  at  this  time;  settles  at  "Wayside,"  Concord, 
again ;  his  many  plans  of  work  ;  his  absorption  in  his 
work  ;  his  loyalty  in  friendship  ;  prevented  by  the  war 
from  working,  he  visits  the  various  points  of  interest ; 
writes  an  article  on  the  subject ;  his  political  position  and 
views ;  he  tries  to  begin  writing  again,  but  fails ;  com- 
mences "The  Dolliver  Romance";  illness  of  Una  and 
himself;  works  on  at  "Septimius  Felton "  and  "The 
Dolliver  Romance  "  ;  growing  worse,  he  gives  up  work ; 
his  death,  May  18, 1864;  and  burial  ;  his  wife's  resignation  198 

INDEX          ...  .216 


PREFACE. 


THERE  are  few  authors  with  whom  the  world  is 
more  intimate  than  the  one  supposed  to  have 
most  shunned  its  intimacy.  But  Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 
though  his  peculiar  sensibility  shrank  from  men,  loved 
mankind,  and  described  his  earliest  writings  as  "attempts 
to  open  an  intercourse  with  the  world."  In  his  works  he 
has  occasionally  taken  the  world  into  his  confidence  in 
matters  which  most  men  of  the  world  would  veil — as  in 
the  opening  chapter  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter."  Like  his 
own  Hilda,  in  "Transformation,"  he  was  spiritually 
compelled  to  descend  from  his  aerial  hermitage,  and 
unburden  his  heart  in  the  world's  confessional.  And 
as,  when  Hilda  had  disappeared,  a  duplicate  key  ad- 
mitted lover  and  contadina  alike  to  her  virginal  chamber, 
Hawthorne's  journals  and  letters  have  made  a  saloon  of 
his  retreat,  and  brought  a  flare  of  daylight  into  the 
twilight  seclusion,  where  he  sat  at  his  beautiful  task  and 
fed  his  sacred  lamp.  But  this  prosaic  light  becomes 
tender  and  mystical  as  it  reveals  the  infusion  of  his 
heart's  blood  in  the  pigments  so  refined  into  finished 


10  PREFACE. 

pictures.  And  it  is  a  large  compensation  for  the  fewness 
of  these  that  the  walls  of  his  hermitage,  as  opened  by 
his  "  American  Note  Books,"  are  found  hung  with  many 
sketches,  studies,  fancies,  visions,  each  with  its  charm, 
and  all  disclosing  something  of  the  secret  of  his  art- 
Still,  the  pathos  of  Hawthorne's  life  is  deepened  by 
these  revelations.  For  these  multitudinous  unmatured 
blossoms,  with  their  richness  as  of  flowers  blooming  on 
battle-fields,  tell  a  tale  of  life-blood  wasted,  the  more 
tragical  beside  the  fruits  reporting  victories  won.  Such 
victories  ! 

Hawthorne  has  had  exceptionally  competent  bio- 
graphers and  editors  of  his  papers.  No  one  could  have 
edited  his  "  Note  Books "  with  such  full  information 
as  his  widow,  though  delicacy  may  have  required 
suppression  of  some  passages  relating  to  herself.  Her 
sister,  Elizabeth  Peabody,  is  a  cyclopaedia  of  reminis- 
cences :  I  remember  hearing  Emerson  say  that  her 
journals  and  correspondence  would  probably  be  a  com- 
plete literary  and  philosophical  history  of  New  England 
during  her  long  life.  She  was  a  playmate  of  Hawthorne 
in  his  childhood,  and  his  intimate  friend  through  life. 
Her  recollections  have  assisted  Hawthorne's  son,  Julian, 
and  George  Parsons  Lathrop  (who  married  Hawthorne's 
daughter  Rose),  both  of  whom  were  peculiarly  fitted, 
by  personal  knowledge  and  affection,  as  well  as  by 
literary  ability,  to  portray  the  man  and  the  author.  Mr. 
Lathrop's  "Study  of  Hawthorne"  shows  us  much  of 
the  relation  between  the  private  life  of  Hawthorne  and 
his  works.  Julian  Hawthorne's  "  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 
and  his  Wife  "  reveals  the  romance  of  his  father's  career, 


PREFACE.  11 

which  is  illustrated  with  interesting  reminiscences  and 
anecdotes.  Had  Julian's  remarkable  story  been  before 
him,  Henry  James,  jun.,  could  hardly  have  introduced 
his  "Hawthorne"  with  the  statement  that  his  "career 
was  probably  as  tranquil  and  uneventful  a  one  as  ever 
fell  to  the  lot  of  a  man  of  letters."  Imperfections  in 
the  record  supplied  him  have  not,  however,  prevented 
the  younger  novelist  (Henry  James)  from  giving  us  a 
striking  and  suggestive  monograph  on  his  great  fore- 
runner. With  these,  and  Field's  "  Yesterdays,"  the 
admirable  "  Analytical  Index "  of  Hawthorne's  works 
(Houghton),  and  Page's  "Memoir"  (London,  1872),  it 
might  appear  that  the  life  of  Hawthorne  has  been  suffi- 
ciently treated.  But  the  above-named  publications  have 
not  exhausted  the  subject ;  in  some  respects  they  have 
excited  an  unsatisfied  interest.  A  series  of  letters  by 
Hawthorne,  owned  by  Dr.  John  S.  H.  Fogg,  of  Boston, 
which  appeared  in  the  Athenceum  (London,  August  10 
and  17,  1889),  have  brought  out  an  important  episode 
in  the  author's  history.  In  preparing  this  work  I  found 
much  valuable  material  that  has  never  appeared.  Of 
this,  by  the  bounty  of  its  several  owners,  I  have  availed 
myself,  so  far  as  it  is  due  or  useful  to  the  public.1  It  is 
1  My  chief  debt  is  to  Mr.  G.  M.  Williamson  (Brooklyn,  N.Y.), 
a  Hawthorne  enthusiast ;  my  grateful  acknowledgments  are  due 
also  to  Messrs.  Ferdinand  J.  Dreer  and  Simon  Gratz,  of  Phila- 
delphia;  to  Mr.  Walter  R.  Benjamin,  of  New  York.  Nor  can  I 
forbear  expressing  thanks  for  the  information  I  have  received  from 
Miss  Elizabeth  Peabody,  Dr.  Loring,  Mrs.  Hiram  Powers,  and  her 
son,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  W.  Story,  Mr.  Garnett  of  the  British  Museum, 
and  Mr.  Wentworth  Higginson  of  Cambridge,  Mass.  It  need  hardly 
be  said  that  for  the  main  facts  of  Hawthorne's  life  I  largely  depend 
on  his  son  Julian's  biography,  and  G.  P.  Lathrop's  "  Study." 


12  PREFACE. 

possible  that  some  of  this  new  matter  has  been  purposely 
omitted  by  Hawthorne's  biographers  from  motives  akin 
to  those  which  led  Mrs.  Hawthorne  to  omit  passages  in 
the  "Note  Books"  relating  to  herself.  There  are  aspects 
of  this  author's  career  which,  however  honourable  to 
himself,  are  not  so  honourable  to  his  time  and  country, 
and  which  a  member  of  his  household  might  naturally 
be  too  proud  to  set  forth  in  relief.  At  any  rate  the 
last  word  concerning  Hawthorne  has  not  been  said  j  and 
though  the  present  writer  cannot  hope  to  say  that  word, 
he  is  not  hopeless  of  contributing  something  that  may 
enhance  the  interest  in  Hawthorne's  career,  and  suggest 
its  larger  significance. 


LIFE    OF    HAWTHORNE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  has  been  said  that  every  particle  of  the  soil  of 
New  England  may  be  traced  to  the  rock  from  which 
it  was  pulverised.  The  intellectual  soil  may  be  certainly 
traced  to  the  flinty  Puritanism  which  preceded  it.  The 
combination  of  religious  and  secular  elements  in  the 
Puritan  rock  made  a  substance  too  hard  to  be  symbo- 
lised even  by  the  granite,  which  was  sooner  made  levi- 
gable.  In  the  early  New  England  commonwealth  all 
laws  were  consecrated,  some  of  the  worst  being  taken 
seriously  after  they  had  become  obsolete  in  England. 
The  first  protest  against  English  interference  with  the 
internal  affairs  of  New  England,  was  not  in  the  interest 
of  civil  liberty,  but  the  reverse.  The  theocracy  had 
already  too  much  independence,  and  had  not  Charles  II. 
interfered,  Quakers  and  "  Witches  "  might  have  suffered 
many  a  year  longer. 

Hawthorne  had  not,  like  the  majority  of  New  England 
authors,  a   clerical  ancestry ;   his  American   forefathers 


14  LIFE  OF 

were  active  in  public  and  political  affairs.  The  founder  of 
the  family  in  America,  William  Hathorne  (so  spelt,  but 
pronounced  nearly  as  afterwards  written)  emigrated  from 
Wiltshire  in  1630.  (Arms:  Azure,  a  lion's  head  erased, 
between  three  fleurs-de-lis.)  William  was  long  a  deputy 
in  his  Colonial  Assembly,  for  some  time  its  Speaker ;  he 
turned  soldier  when  Indians  were  to  be  fought ;  he  was 
a  magistrate,  and,  though  he  caused  Quakers  to  be 
scourged,  is  to  be  credited  with  the  execution  of  John 
Flint  for  killing  a  red  man.  It  was  this  William 
Hathorne  to  whom  is  credited  the  protest  against 
English  interference  already  referred  to.  The  document 
(1666)  printed  by  Julian  Hawthorne  (i.  13)  would  have 
been  creditable  to  its  writer's  valour  had  he  not  signed 
a  feigned  name,  and  it  sounds  a  note  of  independence  ; 
but  the  objects  for  which  irresponsibility  to  royal  com- 
missioners in  England  is  demanded  are  suspicious. 
They  dread  any  interference  with  the  government  they 
have  built  up  chiefly  because,  if  the  wall  be  pulled 
down,  "the  wild  boar  will  soon  destroy  the  Lord's 
vineyard,"  there  being  "  many  sectaries  and  profane 
persons "  longing  for  such  opportunity.  The  liberty  to 
deal  with  Friends,  and  other  innocent  victims,  as  wild 
boars  in  the  Lord's  vineyard  was,  unfortunately  for 
William  Hathorne's  descendants,  for  a  time  continued. 
William's  magisterial  successor  was  his  son  John.  Of 
this  Judge  Hathorne's  seventy-seven  years  no  good 
action  has  been  able  to  survive  under  the  deep  shadow 
of  his  fanatical  fame.  The  Judge,  who  died  in  1717, 
probably  did  not  live  late  enough  to  realize  that  where 
he  saw  devils  in  disguise,  posterity  would  see  innocent 


HA  W  THORNE.  15 

human  beings.  He  evidently  did  not  consider  humanity 
as  involved  in  witch  cases,  though  there  is  no  indication 
of  his  reception  of  evidence  inadequate  for  a  magistrate 
administering,  as  contemporary  law,  "Thou  shalt  not 
suffer  a  witch  to  live."  Of  one  accused  woman  brought 
before  him,  the  husband  wrote  :  "  She  was  forced  to 
stand  with  her  arms  stretched  out.  I  requested  that  I 
might  hold  one  of  her  hands,  but  it  was  declined  me ; 
then  she  desired  me  to  wipe  the  tears  from  her  eyes, 
which  I  did  •  then  she  desired  that  she  might  lean 
herself  on  me,  saying  she  should  faint.  Justice  Ha- 
thorne  replied  she  had  strength  enough  to  torture  these 
persons,  and  she  should  have  strength  enough  to  stand. 
I  repeating  something  against  their  cruel  proceedings, 
they  commanded  me  to  be  silent,  or  else  I  should  be 
turned  out  of  the  room."  There  are  other  ugly  records- 
of  such  trials,  but  it  is  probably  to  this  one  that  the 
traditional  "curse"  is  traceable — the  husband  having 
exclaimed  that  God  would  avenge  his  wife's  sufferings. 

Of  his  first  American  ancestor,  William — also  noto- 
rious for  his  remorselessness  towards  some  women,  "Anne 
Coleman  and  her  four  friends,"  albeit  before  his  magis- 
tracy he  had  opposed  persecution  of  Quakers — Haw- 
thorne paints  an  impressive  portrait.  Of  both  earlier 
ancestors  he  writes  : 

"  I,  the  present  writer,  as  their  representative,  hereby 
take  shame  upon  myself  for  their  sakes,  and  pray  that 
any  curse  incurred  by  them — as  I  have  heard,  and  as 
the  dreary  and  unprosperous  condition  of  the  race,  for 
many  a  long  year  back,  would  argue  to  exist — may  be 
now  and  henceforth  removed." 


16  LIFE  OF 

It  is  satisfactory  to  find  now,  in  the  sixth  generation  of 
American  Hawthornes,  a  representative  of  the  family  who 
can  smile  at  the  traditional  doom ;  but  it  needs  no  super- 
stition to  recognize  how  such  curses,  born  of  fearful  facts, 
tend  to  fulfil  themselves.  Hawthorne's  language  just 
quoted,  from  his  introduction  to  "The  Scarlet  Letter," 
suggests  that  in  his  calamitous  winter  of  1849  ne  may 
have  given  some  credit  to  the  superstition.  A  family 
legend,  however,  demands  a  certain  loyalty  in  its  heirs — 
especially  if  preternatural :  only  distinguished  houses 
are  marked  out  for  even  retributive  attentions  from 
supernal  powers.  The  legendary  curse  on  the  Hathornes, 
and  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  the  titles  of 
Hawthorne's  maternal  relatives  to  the  land  on  which 
the  town  of  Raymond,  Maine,  now  stands,  are  combined 
and  built  into  a  romantic  family  monument  in  "  The 
House  of  the  Seven  Gables." 

The  third  son  of  Judge  John  Hathorne,  "  Farmer 
Joseph,"  lived  and  died  peacefully  at  Salem ;  his, 
Joseph's,  fifth  son,  "  Bold  Daniel,"  became  a  priva- 
teersman  in  the  War  of  Independence;  and  in  the 
beginning  of  that  war,  1775,  was  born  Daniel's  third 
son,  Nathaniel,  the  father  of  our  author. 

Hawthorne's  father  was  a  sea-captain  ;  he  was  a  silent, 
reserved,  stern,  melancholy  man;  he  carried  books  to 
sea ;  he  was  fond  of  children.  He  died  of  yellow  fever  at 
Surinam,  1808.  His  widow — Elizabeth  Clarke  Manning, 
descendant  of  Richard  Manning,  of  Dartmouth,  England 
— was  left  with  two  daughters  and  one  son. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  the  author,  was  born  at  Salem, 


HA  WTHORNE.  17 

Massachusetts,  on  the  twenty-eighth  anniversary  of 
American  independence — July  4,  1804.  He  could 
thus  have  no  recollection  of  his  father,  whose  silence, 
vein  of  melancholy,  love  of  reading,  and  personal 
appearance,  he  inherited.  When  Hawthorne  was  Sur- 
veyor of  Customs  at  Salem  a  sailor  stopped  him  to 
ask  if  he  were  not  a  relative  of  Captain  Hathorne,  whom 
this  sailor  had  known  forty  years  before.  The  only 
external  heritage  which  young  Hawthorne  received  at 
his  father's  death  was  a  darkened  home.  His  mother, 
beautiful,  ascetic,  in  the  human  rather  than  the  religious 
way,  took  the  veil  of  widowhood,  and  it  was  never  laid 
aside.  Her  children  played  with  their  mates  at  school 
and  out  of  doors,  but  they  saw  no  society  at  home.  In 
a  little  tale,  "The  Wives  of  the  Dead,"  Hawthorne 
describes  the  sorrow  of  a  young  wife  whose  husband  had 
died  in  a  distant  region  :  "  Her  face  was  turned  partly 
inward  to  the  pillow,  and  had  been  hidden  there  to  weep  ; 
but  a  look  of  motionless  contentment  was  now  visible 
upon  it,  as  if  her  heart,  like  a  deep  lake,  had  grown  calm 
because  its  dead  had  sunk  down  so  far  within  it."  Haw- 
thorne always  preserved  the  greatest  tenderness  for  his 
mother,  and  her  morbid  anxieties  were  an  effectual  re- 
straint upon  his  adventurous  spirit. 

In  1871  and  1873  there  appeared  in  the  Portland 
(Maine)  Transcript  what  purported  to  be  extracts  from 
a  journal  kept  by  Hawthorne  from  his  twelfth  year. 
Although  discredited  by  Julian  Hawthorne,  I  incline  to 
agree  with  Mr.  Lathrop's  critical  argument  in  favour  of 
their  genuineness.  They  are  not,  indeed,  of  great 
biographical  value,  but  they  show  early  thoughtfulness, 


18  LIFE  OF 

and  some  precocity  in  writing,  as  well  as  in  observation. 
One  extract  will  suffice  to  indicate  these,  as  well  as  what 
has  been  said  concerning  his  relation  to  his  mother : 

"  A  young  man  named  Henry  Jackson,  jun.,  was 
drowned  two  days  ago,  up  Crooked  River.  He  and 
one  of  his  friends  were  trying  which  could  swim  the 
faster.  Jackson  was  behind  but  gaining ;  his  friend 
kicked  at  him  in  fun,  thinking  to  hit  his  shoulder  and 
push  him  back,  but  missed,  and  hit  his  chin,  which 
caused  him  to  take  in  water  and  strangle,  and  before  his 
friend  could  help  or  get  help,  poor  Jackson  was  (Elder 
Leach  says)  beyond  the  reach  of  mercy.  I  read  one  of 
the  Psalms  to  my  mother  this  morning,  and  it  plainly 
declares  twenty-six  times  that  '  God's  mercy  endureth  for 
ever.'  I  never  saw  Henry  Jackson  ;  he  was  a  young 
man  just  married.  Mother  is  sad,  says  that  she  shall  not 
consent  to  my  swimming  any  more  in  the  mill-pond  with 
the  boys,  fearing  that  in  sport  my  mouth  might  get 
kicked  open,  and  then  sorrow  for  a  dead  son  be  added 
to  that  for  a  dead  father,  which  she  says  would  break  her 
heart.  I  love  to  swim,  but  I  shall  not  disobey  my 
mother." 

Julian  Hawthorne's  biography  contains  (i.  98)  an 
interesting  letter  from  his  aunt  Elizabeth  Hawthorne, 
written  to  Hawthorne's  daughter  Una,  in  the  year  after 
his  death  : 

"Your  father  was  born  in  1804,  on  the  4th  of  July,  in  the  chamber 
over  the  little  parlour  in  the  house  in  Union  Street,  which  then 
belonged  to  my  grandmother  Hathorne,  who  lived  in  one  part  of  it. 
There  we  lived  until  1808,  when  my  father  died,  at  Surinam.  I 
remember  that  one  morning  my  mother  called  my  brother  into  her 


HA  WTHORNE.  19 

room,  next  to  the  one  where  we  slept,  and  told  him  that  his  father 
was  dead.  He  left  very  little  property,  and  my  grandfather  Man- 
ning took  us  home.  All  through  our  childhood  we  were  indulged 
in  all  convenient  ways,  and  were  under  very  little  control  except 
that  of  circumstances.  There  were  aunts  and  uncles,  and  they  were 
all  as  fond  of  your  father  and  as  careful  of  his  welfare  as  if  he  had 
been  their  own  child.  He  was  beautiful  and  bright,  and  perhaps 
his  training  was  as  good  as  any  other  could  have  been.  We  were 
the  victims  of  no  educational  pedantry.  We  always  had  plenty  of 
books,  and  our  minds  and  sensibilities  were  not  unduly  stimulated. 
.  .  .  Your  father  was  fond  of  animals,  especially  kittens.  .  .  .  He 
never  wanted  money,  except  to  spend  ;  and  once,  in  the  country, 
where  there  were  no  shops,  he  refused  to  take  some  that  was  offered 
him,  because  he  could  not  spend  it  immediately.  Another  time,  old 
Mr.  Forrester  offered  him  a  five-dollar  bill,  which  he  also  refused  ; 
which  was  uncivil,  for  Mr.  Forrester  always  noticed  him  very  kindly 
when  he  met  him.  At  Raymond,  in  Maine,  my  grandfather  owned 
a  great  deal  of  wild  land.  Part  of  the  time  we  were  at  a  farmhouse 
belonging  to  the  family,  as  boarders,  for  there  was  a  tenant  on  the 
farm  ;  at  other  times  we  stayed  at  our  uncle's.  It  was  close  to  the 
great  Sebago  Lake,  now  a  well-known  place.  We  enjoyed  it 
exceedingly,  especially  your  father  and  I.  At  the  time  our  father 
died,  Uncle  Manning  had  assumed  the  entire  charge  of  my  brother's 
education,  sending  him  to  the  best  schools  and  colleges.  It  was 
much  more  expensive  than  it  would  be  to  do  the  same  things  now, 
because  the  public  schools  were  not  good  then,  and  of  course  he 
never  went  to  them.  Your  father  was  lame  a  long  time  from  an 
injury  received  while  playing  bat-and-ball.  His  foot  pined  away 
and  was  considerably  smaller  than  the  other.  He  had  every  doctor 
that  could  be  heard  of;  among  the  rest  your  grandfather  Peabody. 
But  it  was  *  Dr.  Time  '  who  at  last  cured  him.  I  remember  he  used 
to  lie  upon  the  floor  and  read,  and  that  he  went  upon  two  crutches. 
Everybody  thought  that,  if  he  lived,  he  would  be  always  lame.  Mr. 
Joseph  E.  Worcester,  the  author  of  the  Dictionary,  who  at  one  time 
taught  a  school  in  Salem,  to  which  your  father  went,  was  very  kind 
to  him  ;  he  came  every  evening  to  hear  him  repeat  his  lessons.  It 
was  during  this  long  lameness  that  he  acquired  his  habit  of  constant 
readme. 


20  LIFE  OF 

Robert  Manning,  the  uncle  who  paid  for  Hawthorne's 
education,  built  near  Raymond,  on  Sebago  Lake,  a 
dwelling  "  so  ambitious,"  says  Mr.  Lathrop,  "  that  it 
gained  the  title  of  '  Manning's  Folly.' "  It  has  since 
been  a  tabernacle,  and  is  now  a  mossy  ruin,  said  to  be 
haunted ;  but  it  was  there,  and  in  that  region  before  it 
was  built,  that  the  happiest  years  of  Hawthorne's  boy- 
hood were  passed.  In  October,  1818,  the  widow  Haw- 
thorne finally  removed  thither  from  Salem.  Hawthorne 
loved  to  dwell  there  again  in  memory.  Mr.  James  T. 
Fields,  in  his  "  Yesterdays  with  Authors,"  reports  Haw- 
thorne's talk  about  those  years,  near  the  close  of  life. 

"  '  I  lived  in  Maine,'  he  said,  '  like  a  bird  of  the  air,  so 
perfect  was  the  freedom  I  enjoyed.  But  it  was  there  I 
got  my  cursed  habits  of  solitude.'  During  the  moonlight 
nights  of  winter  he  would  skate  until  midnight  all  alone 
upon  Sebago  Lake,  with  the  deep  shadows  of  the  icy 
hills  on  either  hand.  When  he  found  himself  far  away 
from  his  home  and  weary  with  the  exertion  of  skating, 
he  would  sometimes  take  refuge  in  a  log  cabin  where  half 
a  tree  would  be  burning  on  the  broad  hearth.  He  would 
sit  in  the  ample  chimney  and  look  at  the  stars  through 
the  great  aperture  through  which  the  flames  went  roaring 
up.  '  Ah,'  he  said,  'how  well  I  recall  the  summer  days- 
when,  with  my  gun,  I  roamed  at  will  through  the  woods 
of  Maine.  How  sad  middle  life  looks  to  people  of 
erratic  temperaments  !  Everything  is  beautiful  in  youth, 
for  all  things  are  allowed  to  it  then.'  " 

In  1853,  Hawthorne  wrote  to  R.  H.  Stoddard,  who 
was  preparing  a  sketch  of  him  for  The  National  Review, 
that  "  one  of  the  peculiarities  "  of  his  boyhood  was  "  a 


HA  WTHORNE.  21 

grievous  disinclination  to  go  to  school.'7  Of  the  life  at 
Sebago  Lake  he  says  : 

"  Here  I  ran  quite  wild,  and  would,  I  doubt  not,  have 
willingly  run  wild  till  this  time,  fishing  all  day  long,  or 
shooting  with  an  old  fowling-piece ;  but  reading  a  good 
deal,  too,  on  the  rainy  days,  especially  in  Shakespeare 
and  '  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  and  any  poetry  or  light 
books  within  my  reach.  Those  were  delightful  days ; 
for  that  part  of  the  country  was  wild  then,  with  only 
scattered  clearings,  and  nine-tenths  of  it  primeval  woods. 
But  by  and  by  my  good  mother  began  to  think  it  was 
necessary  for  her  boy  to  do  something  else ;  so  I  was 
sent  back  to  Salem,  where  a  private  instructor  fitted  me 
for  college." 

This  return  to  Salem  was  in  the  autumn  of  1818,  and 
the  boy  was  homesick  for  Raymond,  where  the  rest  of 
the  family  remained.  Julian  Hawthorne  publishes 
(i.  105)  the  following  characteristic  letter  : 

"  SALEM,  Tuesday,  Sept.  28,  1819. 

"  DEAR  SISTER; — We  are  all  well,  and  hope  you  are  the  same.  I 
do  not  know  what  to  do  with  myself  here.  I  shall  never  be  con- 
tented here,  I  am  sure.  I  now  go  to  a  five-dollar  school — I,  that 
have  been  to  a  ten-dollar  one.  *  O  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning, 
how  art  thou  fallen ! '  I  wish  I  was  but  in  Raymond,  and  I  should 
be  happy.  But  '  'twas  light  that  ne'er  shall  shine  again  on  life's 
dull  stream.'  I  have  read  '  Waverley,'  '  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,' 
'  The  Adventures  of  Ferdinand  Count  Fathom,'  'Roderick  Random,' 
and  the  first  volume  of  '  The  Arabian  Nights.' 

Oh,  earthly  pomp  is  but  a  dream, 
And  like  a  meteor's  short-lived  gleam  ; 
And  all  the  sons  of  glory  soon 
Will  rest  beneath  the  mould'ring  stone. 


22  LIFE  OF 

And  Genius  is  a  star  whose  light 
Is  soon  to  sink  in  endless  night, 
And  heavenly  beauty's  angel  form 
Will  bend  like  flower  in  winter's  storm. 

Though  those  are  my  rhymes,  yet  they  are  not  exactly  my 
thoughts.  I  am  full  of  scraps  of  poetry ;  can't  keep  it  out  of  my 
brain.  Tell  Ebe  she's  not  the  only  one  of  the  family  whose  works  have 
appeared  in  the  papers.  The  knowledge  I  have  of  your  honor  and 
good  sense,  Louisa,  gives  me  full  confidence  that  you  will  not  show 
this  letter  to  anybody.  You  may  to  mother,  though.  My  respects 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howe. 

"  I  remain,  your  humble  servant  and  affectionate  brother, 

»N.  H." 

The  message  to  Ebe — his  childish  appellation  of  his 
sister  Elizabeth,  which  adhered  to  her — suggests  that  he 
may  have  been  experimenting  with  the  Salem  paper.  In 
the  following  year  he  beguiled  his  loneliness  by  printing 
with  his  pen  a  weekly  Spectator,  of  which  Mr.  Lathrop 
gives  (p.  101)  specimens  showing  his  boyish  humour. 
An  advertisement  says  :  "  Employment  will  be  given  to 
any  number  of  indigent  Poets  and  Authors  at  this  office." 
In  an  essay  "  On  Industry,"  he  says  :  "  It  has  somewhere 
been  remarked  that  an  author  does  not  write  the  worse 
for  knowing  little  or  nothing  of  his  subject.  We  hope 
the  truth  of  this  saying  will  be  manifest  in  the  present 
article.  With  the  benefits  of  Industry  we  are  not  per- 
sonally acquainted."  The  first  issue  of  the  Spectator  is 
dated  August  21,  1820;  the  last  (September  18,  1820) 
contained  these  lines  : 

Days  of  my  youth,  ye  fleet  away, 

As  fades  the  bright  sun's  cheering  ray, 


HA  WTHORNE.  23- 

And  scarce  my  infant  hours  are  gone 
Ere  manhood's  troubled  step  comes  on. 

My  infant  hours  return  no  more, 

And  all  their  happiness  is  o'er  : 

The  stormy  sea  of  life  appears, 

A  scene  of  tumult  and  of  tears. 

The  journalistic  pastime  was  given  up  on  the  entrance- 
upon  serious  work.  His  uncle  William  Manning  em- 
ployed Hawthorne  as  secretary,  and,  with  preparations 
for  college,  his  hands  were  full.  In  October,  1820,  he 
writes  to  his  sister  (Lathrop,  p.  108)  : 

' '  I  am  very  angry  with  you  for  not  sending  me  some  of  your 
poetry.  You  will  not  see  one  line  of  mine  until  you  return  the 
confidence  which  I  have  placed  in  you.  I  have  bought  the  *  Lord 
of  the  Isles,'  and  intend  either  to  send  or  to  bring  it  to  you.  I  like 
it  as  well  as  any  of  Scott's  other  poems.  I  have  read  Hogg's 
'Tales,'  '  Caleb  Williams,'  '  St.  Leon,'  and  '  Mandeville.'  I  admire 
Godwin's  novels,  and  intend  to  read  them  all.  I  shall  read  '  The 
Abbot'  by  the  author  of  ' Waverley,'  as  soon  as  I  can  hire  it.  I 
have  read  all  Scott's  novels  except  that.  I  wish  I  had  not,  that  I 
might  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  them  again.  Next  to  these  I 
like  '  Caleb  Williams.'  I  have  almost  given  up  writing  poetry. 
No  man  can  be  a  Poet  and  a  book-keeper  at  the  same  time.  I  do 
find  this  place  most  *  dismal,'  and  have  taken  to  chewing  tobacco 
with  all  my  might,  which,  I  think,  raises  my  spirits.  Say  nothing 
of  it  in  your  letters,  nor  of  the  '  Lord  of  the  Isles.'  .  .  .  I  do  not 
think  I  shall  ever  go  to  college.  I  can  scarcely  bear  the  thought 
of  living  upon  Uncle  Robert  for  four  years  longer.  How  happy  I 
should  be  to  be  able  to  say,  '  I  am  Lord  of  myself ! '  You  may  cut 
off  this  part  of  my  letter,  and  show  the  other  to  Uncle  Richard. 
Do  write  me  some  letters  in  skimmed  milk.  I  must  conclude,  as  I 
am  in  a  '  monstrous  hurry  ! ' 

In  a  letter  to  his  mother,  March  13,  1821,  he  writes  : 
"  I  don't  read  so  much  now  as  I  did,  because  I  am  more  taken 


24  LIFE  OF 

up  in  studying.  I  am  quite  reconciled  to  going  to  college,  since 
I  am  to  spend  my  vacations  with  you.  Yet  four  years  of  the  best 
part  of  my  life  is  a  great  deal  to  throw  away.  I  have  not  yet  con- 
cluded what  profession  I  shall  have.  The  being  a  minister  is  of 
course  out  of  the  question.  I  should  not  think  that  even  you  could 
desire  me  to  choose  so  dull  a  way  of  life.  Oh  no,  mother,  I  was 
not  born  to  vegetate  forever  in  one  place,  and  to  live  and  die  as 
tranquil  as — a  puddle  of  water.  As  to  lawyers,  there  are  so  many 
of  them  already  that  one  half  of  them  (upon  a  moderate  calculation) 
are  in  a  state  of  actual  starvation.  A  physician,  then,  seems  to  be 
*  Hobson's  choice  ; '  but  yet  I  should  not  like  to  live  by  the  diseases 
and  infirmities  of  my  fellow-creatures.  And  it  would  weigh  very 
hardly  on  my  conscience,  in  the  course  of  my  practice,  if  I  should 
chance  to  send  any  unlucky  patient  '  ad  inferum,'  which,  being 
interpreted,  is  'to  the  realms  below.'  Oh  that  I  was  rich  enough 
to  live  without  any  profession  !  what  do  you  think  of  my  becoming 
an  author,  and  relying  for  support  upon  my  pen  ?  Indeed,  I  think 
the  illegibility  of  my  hand  is  very  author-like.  How  proud  you 
would  be  to  see  my  works  praised  by  the  reviewers,  as  equal  to  the 
proudest  productions  of  the  scribbling  sons  of  John  Bull.  But 
authors  are  always  poor  devils,  and  therefore  Satan  may  take  them. 
I  am  in  the  same  predicament  as  the  honest  gentleman  in  '  Espriella's 
Letters,'— 

"  '  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  naked  I  stand  here, 

A-musing  in  my  mind  what  garment  I  shall  wear.'  " 

Hawthorne  was  prepared  by  a  Salem  lawyer,  Benjamin 
Oliver,  for  Bowdoin  College  (Brunswick,  Maine),  which 
he  entered  in  1821.  He  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  a 
Freshman  with  Longfellow,  his  friendship  with  whom 
continued  through  life.  Another  classmate  was  Jonathan 
Cilley,  afterwards  a  member  of  Congress.  Franklin 
Pierce,  who  became  President  of  the  United  States,  was 
then  a  Sophomore  in  the  College.  Another  college- 
mate  was  Horatio  Bridge  (U.S.N.),  to  whom,  dedicating 


HA  WTHORNE.  25 

"The  Snow  Image,"  Hawthorne  says,  "If  anybody  is 
responsible  for  my  being  at  this  day  an  author,  it  is 
yourself." 

"  I  was  an  idle  student,"  wrote  Hawthorne  to  Stoddard, 
"negligent  of  College  rules  and  the  Procrustean  details 
of  academic  life,  rather  choosing  to  nurse  my  own  fancies 
than  to  dig  Greek  roots  and  be  numbered  among  the 
learned  Thebans."  The  following  ominous  letter — for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  Air.  G.  M.  Williamson — points 
the  confession  just  quoted  : 

"  BOWDOIN  COLL.,  BRUNSWICK,  May  31,  1822. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — As  I  intend  that  you  shall  have  no  cause 
of  complaint  for  my  neglect  this  term,  I  take  this  early  opportunity 
of  writing  to  you.  There  is  no  news  here,  except  that  all  the  Card- 
Players  have  been  found  out.  We  have  all  been  called  before  the 
Government,  two  have  been  suspended,  and  several  more,  myself 
among  the  number,  have  been  fined.  The  President  has  written  to  all 
the  parents  of  those  who  were  found  out,  and  to  my  mother  among 

the  rest.     If  Uncle  R ,  hears  of  it  he  will  probably  take  me 

away  from  College.  I  noticed  in  the  paper  that  No.  16885  had 
drawn  a  prize  of  1000.  Is  not  that  one  of  your  tickets  ?  If  it  is, 
I  congratulate  you  upon  your  good  fortune,  and  only  wish  it  had 
been  100,000. 

"  I  have  been  much  more  steady  this  term,  than  I  was  last,  as  I 
have  not  drank  any  kind  of  spirit,  nor  played  cards,  for  the  offence 
for  which  I  was  fined  was  committed  last  term.  The  reason  of  my 
good  conduct  is  that  I  am  very  much  afraid  of  being  suspended  if 
I  continue  any  longer  in  my  old  courses. 

"  I  hope  you  will  write  to  me  soon  and  tell  me  all  about  your 
prize.  I  must  conclude  my  letter  as  it  is  nearly  recitation  time, 
and  it  is  probable  that  you  will  not  be  able  to  read  half  that  I  have 
written. 

"  I  remain,  your  friend, 

"N.  H." 


20  LIFE  OF 

The  name  of  the  friend  to  whom  the  above  letter  was 
written  does  not  appear.  In  a  letter  of  the  previous  day, 
to  his  mother,  he  says  :  "  I  believe  the  President  intends 
to  write  to  the  friends  of  all  the  delinquents.  Should 
that  be  the  case,  you  must  show  the  letter  to  nobody. 
If  1  am  again  detected  I  shall  have  the  honour  of  being 
suspended.  When  the  President  asked  what  we  played 
for,  I  thought  it  proper  to  inform  him  it  was  fifty  cents, 
although  it  happened  to  be  a  quart  of  wine  ;  but  if  I  had 
told  him  of  that,  he  would  probably  have  fined  me  for 
having  a  '  blow.'  There  was  no  untruth  in  the  case,  as 
the  wine  costs  fifty  cents.  I  have  not  played  at  all  this 
term.  I  have  not  drank  any  spirits  or  wine  this  term, 
and  shall  not  till  the  last  week." 

The  College  President  (William  Allen),  in  his  letter  to 
Mrs.  Hawthorne,  mentions  that  the  offence,  for  which 
her  son  had  been  fined  fifty  cents,  was  not  recent,  and 
adds :  "  Perhaps  he  might  not  have  gamed,  were  it  not 
for  the  influence  of  a  student  whom  we  have  dismissed 
from  College."  This  appears  to  have  been  the  only 
thing  in  the  affair  that  excited  any  feeling  in  Hawthorne. 
"  I  have  a  great  mind,"  he  writes  to  his  sister,  "  to  com- 
mence playing  again,  merely  to  show  him  that  I  scorn  to 
be  seduced  by  another  into  anything  wrong."  In  the 
same  letter  he  says  :  "  Ever  since  my  misfortune  I  have 
been  as  steady  as  a  sign-post,  and  as  sober  as  a  deacon, 
have  been  in  no  '  blows '  this  term,  nor  drank  any  kind 
of  '  wine  or  strong  drink.'  So  that  your  comparison  of 
me  to  the  '  prodigious  son '  will  hold  good  in  nothing, 
except  that  I  shall  probably  return  penniless,  for  I  have 
had  no  money  this  six  weeks."  It  is  plain  that  the  faults 


HA  WTHORNE.  27 

of  the  Hawthorne  household  were  not  of  the  puritanical 
kind. 

Hawthorne  paid  fines  regularly  rather  than  make 
declamations.  He  excelled  only  in  Latin  and  in  com- 
position. The  best  thing  Bowdoin  College  did  for  him 
was  to  give  him  three  or  four  friends. 


CHAPTER   II. 

HAWTHORNE  graduated  in  1825,  just  after  reach- 
ing his  majority.  He  returned  to  Salem,  and 
entombed  himself,  in  the  "  haunted  chamber "  of  the 
old  family  mansion,  for  the  next  three  years.  Of  any 
incident  in  these  hermit  years  no  record  remains  in  his 
journals,  nor  has  any  letter  written  during  that  time 
appeared.  In  his  letter  to  Stoddard  (1853)  he  refers  to 
this  period  as  follows  : 

"  It  was  my  fortune  or  misfortune,  just  as  you  please,  to  have 
some  slender  means  of  supporting  myself;  and  so,  on  leaving 
College,  in  1825,  instead  of  immediately  studying  a  profession,  I 
sat  myself  down  to  consider  what  pursuit  in  life  I  was  best  fit  for. 
My  mother  had  now  returned,  and  taken  up  her  abode  in  her 
deceased  father's  house,  a  tall,  ugly,  old,  grayish  building  (it  is  now 
the  residence  of  half  a  dozen  Irish  families),  in  which  I  had  a  room. 
And  year  after  year  I  kept  on  considering  what  I  was  fit  for,  and 
time  and  my  destiny  decided  that  I  was  to  be  the  writer  that  I  am. 
I  had  always  a  natural  tendency  (it  appears  to  have  been  on  the 
paternal  side)  toward  seclusion ;  and  this  I  now  indulged  to  the 
utmost,  so  that,  for  months  together,  I  scarcely  held  human  inter- 
course outside  of  my  family ;  seldom  going  out  except  at  twilight, 
or  only  to  take  the  nearest  way  to  the  most  convenient  solitude, 
which  was  oftenest  the  seashore — the  rocks  and  beaches  in  that 
vicinity  being  as  fine  as  any  in  New  England.  Once  a  year,  or 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  29 

thereabouts,  I  used  to  make  an  excursion  of  a  few  weeks,  in  which 
I  enjoyed  as  much  of  life  as  other  people  do  in  the  whole  year's 
round.  Having  spent  so  much  of  my  boyhood  and  youth  away 
from  my  native  place,  I  had  very  few  acquaintances  in  Salem,  and 
during  the  nine  or  ten  years  that  I  spent  there,  in  this  solitary  way, 
I  doubt  whether  so  much  as  twenty  people  in  the  town  were  aware 
of  my  existence.  Meanwhile,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  had  lived 
a  very  tolerable  life,  always  seemed  cheerful,  and  enjoyed  the  very 
best  bodily  health.  I  had  read  endlessly  all  sorts  of  good  and 
good-for-nothing  books,  and,  in  the  dearth  of  other  employment, 
had  early  begun  to  scribble  sketches  and  stories,  most  of  which  I 
burned," 

To  this  may  be  added  the  more  characteristic  retro- 
spect in  his  "  Note  Book,"  under  date  of  October  4,  1840 : 
"  Here  I  sit  in  my  old  accustomed  chamber,  where  I 
used  to  sit  in  days  gone  by.  ...  Here  I  have  written 
many  tales, — many  that  have  been  burned  to  ashes, 
many  that  doubtless  deserved  the  same  fate.  This 
claims  to  be  called  a  haunted  chamber,  for  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  visions  have  appeared  to  me  in  it ; 
and  some  few  of  them  have  become  visible  to  the  world. 
If  ever  I  should  have  a  biographer,  he  ought  to  make 
great  mention  of  this  chamber  in  my  memoirs,  because 
so  much  of  my  lonely  youth  was  wasted  here,  and  here 
my  mind  and  character  were  formed ;  and  here  I  have 
been  glad  and  hopeful,  and  here  I  have  been  despondent. 
And  here  I  sat  a  long,  long  time,  waiting  patiently  for 
the  world  to  know  me,  and  sometimes  wondering  why  it 
did  not  know  me  sooner,  or  whether  it  would  ever  know 
me  at  all, — at  least,  till  I  were  in  my  grave.  And  some- 
times it  seemed  as  if  I  were  already  in  the  grave,  with 
only  life  enough  to  be  chilled  and  benumbed.  But 


30  LIFE  OF 

oftener  I  was  happy, — at  least  as  happy  as  I  then  knew 
how  to  be,  or  was  aware  of  the  possibility  of  being.  By 
and  by,  the  world  found  me  out  in  my  lonely  chamber, 
and  called  me  forth, — not,  indeed,  with  a  loud  roar  of 
acclamation,  but  rather  with  a  still,  small  voice, — and 
forth  I  went,  but  found  nothing  in  the  world  that  I 
thought  preferable  to  my  solitude  till  now.  .  .  .  And 
now  I  begin  to  understand  why  I  was  imprisoned  so 
many  years  in  this  lonely  chamber,  and  why  I  could 
never  break  through  the  viewless  bolts  and  bars ;  for  if 
I  had  sooner  made  my  escape  into  the  world,  I  should 
have  grown  hard  and  rough,  and  been  covered  with 
earthly  dust,  and  my  heart  might  have  become  callous 
by  rude  encounters  with  the  multitude.  .  .  .  But  living 
in  solitude  till  the  fulness  of  time  was  come,  I  still  kept 
the  dew  of  my  youth,  and  the  freshness  of  my  heart.  .  .  . 
I  used  to  think  I  could  imagine  all  passions,  all  feelings, 
and  states  of  the  heart  and  mind ;  but  how  little  did  I 
know  !  .  .  .  Indeed  we  are  but  shadows ;  we  are  not 
endowed  with  real  life,  and  all  that  seems  most  real 
about  us  is  but  the  thinnest  substance  of  a  dream,  till 
the  heart  be  touched.  That  touch  creates  us, — then  we 
begin  to  be, — thereby  we  are  beings  of  reality  and 
inheritors  of  eternity." 

This  creating  touch  had  come  for  Hawthorne  from 
Miss  Sophia  Amelia  Peabody.  Many  years  ago  the 
sister  of  this  lady,  Miss  Elizabeth  Peabody,  always  in 
Hawthorne's  confidence,  wrote  out  some  particulars  of 
those  lonely  years,  which  have  not  been  published.  I 
am  indebted  to  Mr.  G.  M.  Williamson  for  the  use  of 
this  valuable  manuscript. 


HA  WTHORNE.  31 

"He  graduated  at  Brunswick,  Maine,  in  the  year  1825, 
and  immediately  returned  to  Salem,  where  his  mother 
was  living  in  a  house  belonging  to  her  brother,  William 
Manning.  He  was  not  attracted  to  either  of  the  pro- 
fessions, but  to  literary  art,  and  there  he  began  to  write 
his  first  work,  '  Fanshawe.'  Later  in  life  he  repudiated 
it,  and  did  not  allow  it  to  appear  again.  As  all  his  class- 
mates were  Maine  men,  and  his  mother  lived  in  the  most 
profound  retirement,  literally  receiving  no  visitors,  the 
sensitive,  shy  young  man  was  too  entirely  alone.  After 
a  while,  however,  having  made  himself  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  ancient  history  of  Salem,  and 
especially  with  the  witchcraft  era,  he  began  to  write 
stories,  a  few  of  which  are  to  be  found  among  the 
'  Twice-told  Tales ' ;  but  the  bulk  of  them  he  once 
burnt  up,  in  a  fit  of  despair.  He  said  some  of  these 
were  perhaps  the  most  powerful  things  he  had  written, 
but  felt  they  were  morbid.  And  he  remarked  that,  when 
he  found,  on  re-reading  anything,  that  it  had  not  the 
healthiness  of  nature,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  guilty  of 
a  lie.  He  was  not  sure  that  he  had  burnt  all  that 
deserved  that  fate.  He  also  told  me  the  following  story 
of  his  effort  to  get  into  print.  He  wrote  a  book  which 
he  named  the  '  Storyteller.'  It  began  describing  him- 
self, the  author,  as  a  dreamy  person  who  subjected  all 
his  observation  and  reading  to  his  fancy,  reproducing  it 
in  the  form  of  a  story ;  and  that  he  was  regarded  by  his 
neighbours,  and  even  by  most  of  his  relatives,  as  an  idler 
and  cumberer  of  the  ground.  But  he  had  one  neighbour 
as  little  of  a  society  man  as  himself,  yet  very  different ; 
for  this  young  man  was  an  enthusiast  in  religion  who  felt 


32  LIFE  OF 

an  internal  call  to  convert  the  whole  world.  The  two 
odd  neighbours  drew  together  because  pretty  much  alike 
in  reputation,  viz.,  as  both  impracticable  and  unpractical 
loafers.  So  one  day,  talking  over  between  themselves 
their  anomalous  position,  they  agreed  to  set  forth,  the 
one  to  preach  in  the  open  air  wherever  he  could  collect 
a  congregation  by  means  of  placards  posted  on  trees  and 
fences  of  the  place  where  he  should  preach  in  the  after- 
noon ;  and  the  other  advertising  that  he  shouldJjOhe 
evening  tell  a  story.  They  started  off  and  wandered 
over  New  England,  and  the  tales,  afterwards  told  again, 
had  this  origin.  When  the  book  was  done,  he  sent  it  to 
Goodrich  to  publish,  but  Goodrich  declined  to  undertake 
it — it  was  two  volumes — but  said  he  was  publishing 
The  Token,  and  would  buy  some  of  the  stories  for  this, 
and  also  the  editor  of  The  New  England  Magazine  would 
take  some  of  the  stories.  So  they  tore  up  the  book, 
and  Hawthorne  said  he  cared  little  for  the  stones 
afterwards,  which  had  in  their  original  place  in  the 
'Storyteller'  a  greater  degree  of  significance;  and  he 
got  little  or  nothing  as  pay.  Then,  as  nobody  reviews 
stories  in  magazines,  it  did  not  serve  the  purpose  of 
introducing  him  into  the  world  of  letters.  '  It  was  like 
a  man  talking  to  himself  in  a  dark  place.'  Meanwhile 
his  classmates  went  into  politics  and  became  noted  men, 
5^.1  B^iAeyVs  but  did  not  forget  the  beautiful  young  man  full  of  genius 

L  at  co^eSe>  whom    they  called  'Oberon    the    Fairy/  on 

account  of  his  beauty,  and  because  he  improvised  tales. 
He  was  offered  public  place  by  Van  Buren  at  their 
instance,  but  refused  everything,  being  uninterested  in 
present  politics,  and  ignorant ;  for,  as  he  said,  '  I  cannot 


HA  WTHORNE.  33 

understand  the  newspapers,  or  history  till  it  is  at  least  a 
hundred  years  old.' 

"  But  his  friend,  Horatio  Bridge,  would  not  abandon 
the  idea  of  his  finding  a  high  place  in  the  temple  of  fame 
— made  him  a  visit  to  remonstrate  with  him  on  not  doing 
something — so  Hawthorne  told  him  of  his  attempt  with 
Goodrich.  On  this  Bridge  went  to  Goodrich  and  told 
him  to  write  to  Hawthorne  as  if  from  his  own  motion, 
and  ask  him  to  select  a  volume  of  tales  from  those  which 
had  been  published,  and  offer  the  usual  royalty,  saying 
to  Goodrich  that  he  (Bridge)  would  pay  if  the  book 
failed,  but  he  did  not  want  to  have  Hawthorne  know 
that  he  had  spoken  to  him.  (Mr.  Bridge  told  me  this 
himself.)  So  Mr.  Goodrich  did  so;  and  hence  the  first 
volume  was  published  in  1837  or  1838.  Hawthorne  was 
to  have  $100,  but  Goodrich  failed,  and  he  did  not  get  a 
cent.  The  book,  however,  was  reviewed  by  Longfellow, 
and  the  world  found  it  had  a  new  original  author. 

"Then  O 'Sullivan,  of  The  Democratic  Review ^  came  to 
Salem  and  engaged  him  at  $5  a  page.  In  1840  he  went 
to  Brook  Farm,  and  left  in  six  months,  and  then  published 
the  '  Grandfather's  Chair '  in  three  parts.  I  was  keeping 
bookstore  then  and  published  it.  This  was  a  great 
success  ;  and  Tappan  and  Button  made  him  a  great 
offer  for  it,  and  also  engaged  him  to  write  '  True  Stories 
for  Children.' 

"  He  was  married  in  1842,  and  while  living  in  Concord 
published  a  second  volume  of  '  Twice-told  Tales ' ;  also 
two  volumes  collected  partly  from  The  Democratic  Review, 
which  G.  P.  Putnam  of  New  York  published  under  the 
title  of  '  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse ; '  and  later,  '  The 

3 


34  LIFE  OF 

Snow  Image  and  Other  Tales.'  But  that  was  not  until 
after  he  had  left  Concord,  which  he  left  when  The 
Democratic  Review  failed,  owing  him  a  considerable 
sum  of  money.  He  then  went  to  Salem,  and  literary 
work  was  suspended  until  he  lost  his  place  by  the  coming 
in  of  Taylor  as  President.  He  then  wrote  his  first 
romance,  '  The  Scarlet  Letter,'  which  Ticknor  and  Fields 
published  (and  in  the  end  they  became  his  sole  pub- 
lishers). Before  he  went  to  Europe,  as  Consul  at 
Liverpool,  all  his  works  were  published  in  a  uniform 
edition." 

Miss  Peabody,  as  we  shall  see,  was  not  fully  informed 
on  one  or  two  business  points  (for  instance,  Hawthorne 
did  not  refuse  office),  but  her  general  impressions  are 
correct.  So  much  of  the  "Storyteller,"  alluded  to  by 
Miss  Peabody,  as  ever  saw  the  light — or  twilight — in  The 
Token  is  now  included  in  the  "  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse,"  under  the  title  "  Passages  from  a  Relinquished 
Work."  The  account  in  it  of  the  Storyteller's  experience 
with  his  audience  provokes  real  laughter,  and  shows 
that  Hawthorne  might  have  made  himself  a  famous 
humorist.  Miss  Peabody  says  little  about  "  Fan- 
shawe,"  Hawthorne's  earliest  romance — purposely,  no 
doubt,  for  the  author  had  done  his  best  to  suppress  it, 
and  was  not  pleased  to  have  his  friends  allude  to  it. 
The  printing  of  "Fanshawe"  (1828)  cost  its  author  a 
hundred  dollars.  The  profit  was  in  experience.  There 
is  no  foretaste  of  Hawthorne's  individuality  in  the  book, 
none  of  his  exquisite  and  subtle  English.  The  style 
is  without  any  particular  fault,  unless  it  be  a  monotonous 
smoothness.  It  bears  witness  to  its  author's  unworldli- 


HA  WTHORNE.  35 

ness,  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  to  his  ignorance  of 
supreme  passions,  and  of  the  motives  that  impel  men  to 
evil.  One  of  his  two  villains  has  determined  to  reform 
his  wicked  ways,  and,  in  order  to  escape  from  an  old 
comrade  in  wickedness,  helps  that  comrade  to  abduct  a 
lovely  maiden.  The  abductor  loses  his  prize  and  his 
life  by  his  own  gratuitous  stupidity.  The  more  attrac- 
tive of  this  maiden's  two  lovers  rescues  her ,  then,  after 
she  has  offered  him  her  hand,  with  every  indication  of 
affection,  he  passes  it  over  to  his  rival,  without  any 
apparent  motive  for  the  sacrifice.  The  book  is  thus 
a  curiosity  of  literature,  as  a  romance ;  but  it  contains 
interesting,  if  at  times  prosy,  descriptions  of  Bowdoin 
College,  a  good  portrait  of  its  venerable  president,  and 
some  fine  sketches  of  natural  scenery  in  the  vicinity  of 
Brunswick.  The  book  was  hardly  noticed;  but  the 
Critic — possibly  by  the  pen  of  Longfellow — said  its  author 
would  be  heard  from  again,  and  with  honour. 

In  the  early  days  of  New  England,  every  man  per- 
formed some  practical  service  in  the  community.  The 
first  immigrant  Emerson,  though  of  aristocratic  family, 
became  a  baker  at  Ipswich,  and  such  instances  were  not 
rare.  The  immemorial  custom  became  transcendent 
law,  and  a  youth  could  not  decline  each  and  all  of  the 
prescribed  avocations  without  some  combat.  If  he  were 
of  a  meditative  and  literary  turn  there  was  the  ministry 
open  to  him.  There  are  several  passages  in  Hawthorne's 
writings  indicating  that  some  of  his  relatives — his 
maternal  uncles  we  may  suppose — were  offended  by  his 
refusal  to  undertake  any  recognized  vocation,  not  even 
the  ministry. 


36  LIFE  OF 

In  fact — to  make  a  little  digression — Hawthorne, 
without  being  of  a  sceptical  temperament,  manifested 
from  childhood  a  singular  aversion  to  churches,  and  I 
cannot  find  that  his  mother  and  sisters  had  much  dis- 
position to  change  him  in  this  respect.  He  would  appear 
to  have  derived  from  his  studies  of  witch-persecution  in 
Salem,  some  such  lesson  as  that  which,  in  Balzac's  "  La 
Succube,"  Tournebouche,  after  witnessing  the  torture 
and  murder  of  the  so-called  Sorceress,  transmitted  to  his 
son — "  firstly,  that  to  live  happily,  it  is  necessary  to  keep 
far  away  from  church  people,  to  honour  them  much 
without  giving  them  leave  to  enter  your  house."  It 
was,  however,  their  house  that  Hawthorne  disliked  to 
enter.  At  college  he  was  robust  except  for  what  he 
calls  his  "Sunday  sickness" — a  trouble  well  known  in 
colleges  where  church-going  is  compulsory.  At  a  time 
when  the  Methodist  Father  Taylor,  of  the  Seamen's 
Bethel  in  Boston,  so  graphically  described  by  Charles 
Dickens,  was  making  an  impression  on  best  men  and 
women — among  others  on  Emerson — the  lady  who  was 
to  become  Hawthorne's  wife  desired  him  to  hear  that 
preacher.  He  replies :  "  Most  absolute  little  Sophia, 
didst  thou  expressly  command  me  to  go  to  Father 
Taylor's  church  this  very  sabbath  ?  Now,  it  would  not 
be  an  auspicious  day  for  me  to  hear  the  aforesaid  Son  of 
Thunder.  I  have  a  cold,  though,  indeed,  I  fear  I  have 
partly  conjured  it  up  to  serve  my  naughty  purpose. 
Some  sunshiny  day,  when  I  am  wide  awake  and  warm 
and  genial,  I  will  go  and  throw  myself  open  to  his  blessed 
influence ;  but  now  there  is  only  one  thing  I  feel  anywise 
inclined  to  do,  and  that  is  to  go  to  sleep.  But  indeed,. 


HA  WTHORNE.  37 

dearest,  I  feel  somewhat  afraid  to  hear  this  divine 
Father  Taylor,  lest  my  sympathy  with  your  admiration 
of  him  be  colder  and  feebler  than  you  look  for.  Our 
souls  are  in  happiest  unison,  but  we  must  not  disquiet 
ourselves  if  every  tone  be  not  re-echoed  from  one  to  the 
other — if  every  shade  be  not  reflected  in  the  alternate 
mirror.  Our  broad  and  general  sympathy  is  enough  to 
secure  our  bliss,  without  our  following  it  into  minute 
details.  Will  you  promise  not  to  be  troubled,  should  I 
be  unable  to  appreciate  the  excellence  of  Father  Taylor  ? 
Promise  me  this,  and  at  some  auspicious  hour,  which 
I  trust  will  soon  arrive,  Father  Taylor  shall  have  an 
opportunity  to  make  music  with  my  soul.  But  I  fore- 
warn you,  dearest,  that  I  am  a  most  unmalleable  man  j 
you  are  not  to  suppose,  because  my  spirit  answers  to 
every  touch  of  yours,  that,  therefore,  every  breeze,  or 
even  every  whirlwind,  can  upturn  me  from  my  depths." 

In  no  other  letter  printed  by  his  son  can  I  find  further 
mention  of  Father  Taylor,  and  indeed  Julian  Hawthorne 
says  he  cannot  remember  his  father's  attending  church. 
In  his  "  Sunday  at  Home  "  ("  Twice-told  Tales  ")  Haw- 
thorne says  :  u  It  is  my  misfortune  seldom  to  fructify, 
in  a  regular  way,  by  any  but  printed  sermons.  The  first 
strong  idea  which  the  preacher  utters,  gives  birth  to  a 
train  of  thought,  and  leads  me  onward,  step  by  step, 
quite  out  of  hearing  of  the  good  man's  voice,  unless  he 
be  indeed  a  son  of  thunder."  His  experience  of 
parsons  in  Salem  could  not  have  been  fortunate  to  judge 
by  his  portrait  of  Thumpcushion  :  "  Such  sounding  and 
expounding  the  moment  he  began  to  grow  warm,  such 
slapping  with  his  open  palm,  thumping  with  his  closed 


38  LIFE  OF 

fist,  and  banging  with  the  whole  weight  of  the  great  Bible, 
convinced  me  that  he  held,  in  imagination,  either  the 
old  Nick  or  some  Unitarian  infidel  at  bay,  and  belaboured 
his  unhappy  cushion  as  proxy  for  those  abominable 
adversaries"  (Page's  "Memoir,"  p.  162). 

In  making  this  parson  his  guardian,  the  "  Storyteller  " 
reveals  the  secret  of  Hawthorne's  own  Wanderjdhre. 
The  parson  is  figurehead  of  the  whole  Salem  regime. 
"  I  was  a  youth  of  gay  and  happy  temperament,  with  an 
incorrigible  levity  of  spirit,  of  no  vicious  propensities, 
sensible  enough,  but  wayward  and  fanciful.  What  a 
character  was  this  to  be  brought  into  contact  with  the 
old  pilgrim  spirit  of  my  guardian  !  We  were  at  variance 
on  a  thousand  points  ;  but  our  chief  and  final  dispute 
arose  from  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  insisted  on  my 
adopting  a  particular  profession  :  while  I,  being  heir  to 
a  moderate  competence,  had  avowed  my  purpose  of 
keeping  aloof  from  the  regular  business  of  life.  This 
would  have  been  a  dangerous  resolution  anywhere  in  the 
world  ;  it  was  fatal  in  New  England.  There  is  a  gross- 
ness  in  the  Conceptions  of  my  countrymen  ;  they  will  not 
be  convinced  that  any  good  thing  may  consist  with  what 
they  call  idleness ;  they  can  anticipate  nothing  but  evil 
of  a  young  man  who  neither  studies  physic,  law,  nor 
gospel,  nor  opens  a  store,  nor  takes  to  farming,  but 
manifests  an  incomprehensible  disposition  to  be  satisfied 
with  what  his  father  left  him.  The  principle  is  excellent 
in  its  general  influence,  but  most  miserable  in  its  effect 
on  the  few  who  violate  it.  I  had  a  quick  sensitiveness 
to  public  opinion,  and  felt  as  if  it  ranked  me  with  the 
tavern  haunters  and  town-paupers — with  the  drunken 


HA  WJHORNE.  39 

poet  who  hawked  his  own  Fourth  of  July  Odes,  and  the 
broken  soldier  who  had  been  good  for  nothing  since  last 
war.  The  consequence  of  all  this  was  a  piece  of  light- 
hearted  desperation.  I  do  not  over-estimate  my  notoriety 
when  I  take  it  for  granted  that  many  of  my  readers  must 
have  heard  of  me  in  the  wild  way  of  life  which  I  adopted. 
The  idea  of  becoming  a  wandering  storyteller  had  been 
suggested  a  year  or  two  before,  by  an  encounter  with 
several  merry  vagabonds  in  a  showman's  wagon,  where 
they  and  I  had  sheltered  ourselves  during  a  summer 
shower." 

Hawthorne  had  inserted  a  w  in  the  family  name 
during  the  last  year  of  his  college  life, — whether  from 
poetic  sentiment,  or  (as  I  suspect)  from  a  dislike  of 
the  ancestral  record,  combined  with  a  desire  for  secrecy, 
does  not  appear, — and  it  proved  to  be  a  disguise. 
Some  neighbours — the  Peabodys,  for  instance — did  not 
know  that  the  early  pieces  so  signed  were  by  Mrs. 
Hathorne's  son.  Perhaps,  too,  they  could  not  imagine 
the  handsome,  robust  youth  writing  in  such  a  medita- 
tive and  delicate  vein.  One  of  his  earliest  pieces, 
printed  in  Goodrich's  Token  (1832),  attracted  Mar- 
garet Fuller's  attention;  but  she  supposed  it  by  a 
feminine  hand,  and  made  inquiries  after  the  new 
authoress  !  This  adopted  w  led  a  Frenchman,  of  whom 
Hawthorne  took  lessons,  to  translate  him  into  M.  de 
1'Aubepine.  Hawthorne  could  hardly  have  imagined, 
as  his  son  suggests  (i.  8)  that  his  name  was  really  a 
translation,  but  he  played  with  the  Frenchman's  version, 
used  it  in  "  Rappacini's  Daughter  "  ("  Mosses  from  an 
Old  Manse,")  and  in  The  Democratic  Review.  Possibly  it 


40  LIFE  OF 

was  one  cause  of  the  interest  of  French  writers  in 
Hawthorne.1  But  this  change  of  name,  which  Haw- 
thorne's college  correspondents  but  slowly  conceded 
— continuing  for  some  time  to  address  him  as  "  Dear 

1  Some  of  these  stories  were  "imitts"  by  M.  Spoil  ("  Contes 
Etranges"),  and  M.  Forgues  gave  his  countrymen  "La  Lettre 
Rouge"  and  "La  Maison  aux  sept  Pignons."  In  the  Revue 
Bleue  (November  16,  1889),  M.  Paul  Masson  began  further  trans- 
lations with  "  La  Fiancee  du  Shaker."  In  his  introduction  M. 
Masson  speaks  of  Hawthorne  as  "  1'illustre  humoriste  americain," 
which  may  be  accepted  as  an  offset  to  M.  Emile  Montegut's 
description  of  our  author  in  1860,  as  "  Un  romancier  pessimiste" 
(Revue  des  Detix,  Mondes).  M.  Masson  acutely  remarks  that 
Hawthorne  was  a  pioneer  in  the  school  which  has  replaced  the  idea 
of  "art  for  art's  sake."  Speaking  of  "The  Shaker  Bridal,"  the 
translator  remarks:  "Dans  la  courte  Nouvelle  qu'on  va  lire,  il 
a  specialment  en  vue  de  combattre  ces  clogmes  austeres  qui 
etouffent  en  I'liomme  ses  penchants  sympathiques,  et  sacrifient 
a  un  faux  ideal  de  detachement  terrestre  les  aspirations  les  plus 
legitimes  de  notre  nature."  The  sketch  in  question  seems,  how- 
ever, coldly  impartial  between  the  ideas  of  celibacy  and  matrimony, 
and  might  readily  be  cited  by  M.  Montegut  in  support  of  his 
theory  of  pessimism.  In  1856  Hawthorne's  "Wonder  Book" 
("  Livre  des  Merveilles  ")  was  translated  by  M.  Leonce  Rabillon,  a 
note  to  whom  has  been  shown  me  by  Mr.  W.  R.  Benjamin  :- — 

"  U.S.  CONSULATE,  LIVERPOOL,  August  22,  1856. 
"  SIR, — I  sincerely  thank  you  for  the  courtesy  which  has  induced 
your  reference  to  me  in  regard  to  the  publication  of  your  translation 
of  the  '  Wonder  Book ' ;  and  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  complying  with  your  request.  I  send  the 
accompanying  certificate  of  my  consent,  to  yourself,  rather  than 
to  Mr.  Hachette,  because  your  letter  leaves  me  in  doubt  whether 
the  manuscript  of  the  translation  has  yet  been  forwarded  to  that 
gentleman. — Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  sincerely  yours, 

"NATHL.  HAWTHORNE." 

Hachette  et  Cie  published  all  these  translations. 


HA  WTHORNE.  41 

Hath.'' — is  especially  interesting  as  an  early  symptom 
of  his  desire  to  preserve  an  incognito  in  his  rambles 
along  the  coast  where  the  name  of  the  seafaring 
Hathornes  was  widely  known.  He  desired  t6  sit  in 
taverns  among  rough  people  as  an  equal,  and  to  gather 
knowledge  of  them  and  their  ways  in  the  only  way 
possible  to  his  shy  nature.  Wherever  he  went,  his  shell, 
however  invisible,  was  found  to  be  with  him,  by  any 
who  came  too  close. 


CHAPTER    III. 

SUMMER  excursions  through  the  White  Moun- 
tains, on  the  Western  Lakes,  to  Niagara,  in  Central 
New  York,  and  elsewhere,  are  traceable  in  Hawthorne's 
early  tales  and  sketches  :  e.g.,  "  The  Seven  Vagabonds," 
"The  Great  Carbuncle,"  "The  Notch  of  the  White 
Mountains,"  "The  Canterbury  Pilgrims,"  "Chippings 
with  a  Chisel."  But  the  world  has  forever  lost  the 
record  of  some  of  his  more  important  travels — namely, 
those  amid  the  legends  and  folklore  of  New  England. 
The  chief  toil  of  several  years  was  embodied  in  a  set 
of  stories,  which  he  entitled  "  Seven  Tales  of  my  Native 
Land  "  (their  motto,  "  We  are  Seven  "),  but,  after  vain 
efforts  to  find  a  publisher,  he  burnt  them  :  from  their 
ashes  arose,  "  The  Devil  in  Manuscript."  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  some  of  the  main  incidents  of  these  seven 
tales  were  reproduced  in  "Grandfather's  Chair "(1840- 
1842).  This  I  infer  from  a  note,  shown  me  by 
Mr.  Williamson,  from  Hawthorne  to  S.  G.  Goodrich 
(dated  at  Salem,  Nov.  9,  1830),  offering  for  The 
Token,  a  story  "  by  the  author  of  '  Provincial  Tales.'  " 
He  adds  :  "An  unpublished  book  is  more  obscure  than 
many  that  creep  into  the  world,  and  your  readers  will 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE,  43 

suppose  that  the  '  Provincial  Tales '  are  among  the 
latter."  This  story,  which  has  escaped  the  attention 
of  Hawthorne's  biographers  and  bibliographers,  appeared 
in  The  Token  for  1830,  under  the  title  of  "The  Young 
Provincial."  It  is  about  "  Grandfather's  "  gun,  his  fight 
at  Bunker  Hill,  imprisonment  at  Halifax,  and  escape. 
Hawthorne  at  one  time  meant  to  call  the  stories  in 
"  Grandfather's  Chair  "  by  the  title  "  Provincial  Tales." 
It  is  also  probable  that  some  of  the  burnt  material 
was  resuscitated  in  "  Tales  of  the  Province  House ; " 
but  his  sister's  recollection  of  others  proves  that  they 
were  never  rewritten. 

Goodrich,  the  publisher  ("Peter  Parley"),  is  said  to 
have  been  a  "  sweater "  of  young  writers,  but  to  him 
belongs  the  credit  of  being  the  first  editor  to  recognize 
the  ability  of  Hawthorne.  True,  he  did  not  pay  much, 
and  in  the  end  he  could  not  pay  all  he  promised ; 
but,  if  it  be  remembered  that  (being  himself  an  author) 
he  was  trying  to  build  up  American  literature  in  com- 
petition with  immense  masses  of  unpaid  foreign  publi- 
cations, he  should  be  given  credit  for  having  paid  as 
much  as  thirty-five  dollars  for  each  story.  Goodrich's 
annual  was  entitled,  The  Boston  Token  and  Atlantic 
Souvenir.  In  it  appeared  eighteen  pieces  by  Hawthorne 
(1830-1838),  and  they  were  all  paid  for.  Moreover, 
Goodrich  published  several  of  Hawthorne's  stories  in 
each  issue  of  his  annual.  Four  were  inserted  in  The 
Token  for  1830,  the  editor  writing  to  Hawthorne  :  "As 
they  are  anonymous,  no  objection  arises  from  having 
so  many  pages  by  one  author,  particularly  as  they  are 
as  good,  if  not  better,  than  anything  else  I  get.  My 


44  LIFE  OF 

estimate  of  the  pieces  is  sufficiently  evinced  by  the  use 
I  have  made  of  them,  and  I  cannot  doubt  that  the 
public  will  coincide  with  me."  Hawthorne  was  also 
conceded  the  right  to  include  such  stories  in  any  volume 
he  might  publish. 

However,  Hawthorne  could  not  live  on  one  annual, 
so  he  made  an  effort  to  get  a  connection  with  others. 
Mr.  Ferdinand  J.  Dreer  copies  for  me  an  application 
which,  though  fruitless,  possesses  interest : 

"  SALEM  (MASS.),  January  27,  1832. 

"  GENTLEMEN, — I  am  the  author  of  some  tales  ('  My  Kinsman, 
Major  Molineux ' ;  '  Roger  Malvin's  Burial ' ;  and  the  '  Gentle 
Boy  ')  published  in  The  Token  for  the  present  year.  I  do  not 
know  whether  they  attracted  your  notice ;  but  the  object  of  this 
letter  is  to  inquire  whether  you  would  choose  to  insert  an  article 
from  me  in  the  next  Sotivenir  ?  and  if  so,  what  number  of  pages  ? 
and  whether  there  is  any  mode  of  transmitting  the  manuscript  to 
Philadelphia,  except  by  mail  ? 

' '  I  should  not  wish  to  be  mentioned  as  the  author  of  those  tales. 
— Very  respectfully, 

"  NATH.  HAWTHORNE. 

"  Messrs.  Carey  and  Lea." 

Why  Hawthorne  did  not  wish  to  be  known  as  author  of 
the  tales  is  explicable  by  the  fact  that  Goodrich  was 
able  to  publish  the  four,  by  the  same  writer,  because 
they  were  anonymous.  Compelled  to  write  for  other 
publications  for  support — The  Knickerbocker,  The  New 
England  Magazine,  The  American  Monthly  Magazine^ 
even  The  Salem  Gazette — he  avoided  offence  to  any 
editorial  susceptibilities  by  adopting  pseudonyms.  One 
of  these  "Ashley  Allen  Royce"  is  curious,  but  "Oberon," 


HA  WTHORNE.  45 

as  we  have  seen,  was  reminiscence  of  an  appellation 
given  by  his  college  friends — because  of  his  beauty,  and 
his  fondness  for  romance. 

In  the  beginning  of  1836  Fortune  seemed  about  to 
smile  on  Hawthorne.  Through  Goodrich  he  received 
the  editorship  of  the  "  Bewick  Company's  "  American 
Magazine  of  Useful  and  Entertaining  Knoivledge,  with 
a  salary  of  five  hundred  dollars.  But  the  editor  had 
to  write  the  whole  of  each  number,  which  with  his 
sister's  help  he  did ;  but,  alas,  he  had  been  invoked  to 
buttress  a  sinking  concern.  The  company  soon  became 
insolvent,  and  Hawthorne  got  but  a  small  part  of  his 
money.  Hawthorne  at  first  visited  this  on  the  head 
of  Goodrich,  who,  however,  appears  to  have  been  as 
seriously  involved  as  himself  in  the  catastrophe.  Haw- 
thorne resumed  his  relations  with  that  publisher,  and 
presently,  still  assisted  by  his  sister,  wrote  Peter  Parley's 
"  Universal  History,"  for  which  he  received  the  sum 
agreed  on — one  hundred  dollars.  The  work  had  a  large 
circulation,  but  whether  its  compilers  got  anything  more 
does  not  appear.  Hawthorne's  son  does  not  print  a 
sufficient  number  of  Goodrich's  letters,  which  he  men- 
tions as  "  numerous,"  to  justify  an  adverse  verdict  on 
the  publisher  who  brought  Hawthorne  forward,  and 
published  the  "Twice-told  Tales." 

Although  in  the  magazine  which  he  edited,  Hawthorne 
wrote  a  good  deal  that  was  merely  perfunctory,  his 
articles  were  conscientious  pieces  of  work,  and  indicate 
a  marvellous  amount  of  reading.  Every  issue  had  its 
pearl,  as  witness  the  following  which  I  have  gathered 
from  Mr.  Williamson's  files. 


46  LIFE  OF 

Martha's  Vineyard,  to  which  the  first  extract  relates, 
is  now  the  Delectable  City  of  revivalists,  to  which  they 
throng  on  "  celestial "  steam-lines ;  but  it  was  a  little 
known  island  when  Hawthorne  wandered  there  in  youth, 
and  found  its  most  interesting  society  in  the  ancient 
graveyard.  Our  selection  refers  to  the  epitaphs,  most  of 
which  he  did  not  like. 

"  Yet  one  of  them  was  worth  reading.  It  was  con- 
secrated to  the  memory  of  John  and  Lydia  Claghorn, 
a  young  whaler  and  his  wife,  the  former  of  whom  had 
perished  on  the  farther  side  of  Cape  Horn  about  the 
same  time  that  Lydia  had  died  in  child-bed.  The 
monumental  verse  ran  thus  : — 

'"John  and  Lydia,  that  lovely  pair  ; 

A  whale  killed  him,  her  body  lies  here  ; 
Their  souls,  we  hope,  with  Christ  shall  reign — 
So  our  great  loss  is  their  great  gain.' 

John  Claghorn  has  now  slept  beneath  the  sea,  and 
Lydia  here  in  her  lonesome  bed,  between  sixty  and 
seventy  years.  One  of  the  rarest  things  in  the  world 
is  an  appropriate  and  characteristic  epitaph,  marked  with 
the  truth  and  simplicity  which  a  sorrowing  heart  would 
pour  into  the  effusion  of  an  unlettered  mind ;  an  ex- 
pression, in  unaffected  language,  of  what  would  be  the 
natural  feelings  of  friends  and  relatives  were  they 
standing  above  the  grave.  It  seems  to  us  that  this 
rude  and  homely  verse  may  be  ranked  among  the 
masterpieces  of  monumental  literature.  ...  In  a  spot 
where  there  were  several  children's  graves  together, 
almost  obliterated  by  time,  a  wild  rose,  red,  fragrant 


HA  WTHORNE.  47 

and  very  small,  had  either  sprouted  from  one  of  the 
little  mounds,  or  been  planted  there  by  the  forgotten 
parents  of  the  forgotten  child,  and  had  now  spread  over 
the  whole  group  of  those  small  graves.  The  mother's 
dust  had  long  ago  mingled  with  the  dust  over  which  she 
wept — the  nameless  infant,  had  it  lived,  would  have 
been  hoary  and  decrepit  now — yet,  all  this  while,  though 
marble  would  have  decayed,  the  rose  had  been  faithful 
to  its  trust.  It  told  of  affection  still." 

One  of  Hawthorne's  excursions  was  on  an  Ontario 
steamboat,  voyaging  from  Ogdensburgh  westward.  The 
region  was  a  comparative  wilderness  in  those  days,  and 
the  steamboat  primitive.  Hawthorne's  sketch  is  of 
especial  interest  as  illustrating  his  human  sympathy  and 
his  optimistic  faith. 

"  There  were  three  different  orders  of  passengers  :  an 
aristocracy  in  the  grand  cabin  and  ladies'  saloon;  a 
commonalty  in  the  forward  cabin ;  and,  lastly,  a 
multitude  on  the  forward  deck,  constituting  as  veritable 
a  Mob  as  could  be  found  in  any  country.  These  latter 
did  not  belong  to  that  proud  and  independent  class 
among  our  native  citizens  who  chance,  in  the  present 
generation,  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  body  politic; 
they  were  the  exiles  of  another  clime — the  scum  which 
every  wind  blows  off  the  Irish  shores — the  pauper  dregs 
which  England  flings  out  upon  America.  ...  In  our 
country,  at  large,  the  different  ranks  melt  and  mingle 
into  one  another,  so  that  it  is  as  impossible  to  draw  a 
decided  line  between  any  two  contiguous  classes  as  to 
divide  a  rainbow  accurately  into  its  various  hues.  But 
here  the  high,  the  middling,  and  the  low  had  classed 


48  .       LIFE  OF 

themselves,  and  the  laws  of  the  vessel  rigidly  kept  each 
inferior  from  stepping  beyond  the  proper  limits.  .  .  . 
Here,  therefore,  was  something  analogous  to  that 
picturesque  state  of  society,  in  other  countries  and 
earlier  times,  when  each  upper  class  excluded  every 
lower  one  from  its  privileges,  and  when  each  individual 
was  content  with  his  allotted  position,  because  there  was 
no  possibility  of  bettering  it.  I,  by  paying  ten  dollars, 
instead  of  six  or  four,  had  entitled  myself  to  the 
aristocratic  privileges  of  our  floating  community.  But, 
to  confess  the  truth,  I  would  as  willingly  have  been 
anywhere  else  as  in  the  grand  cabin.  There  was  good 
company,  assuredly; — among  others  a  Canadian  judge, 
with  his  two  daughters,  whose  stately  beauty  and  bright 
complexions  made  me  proud  to  feel  that  they  were  my 
countrywomen ;  though  I  doubt  whether  these  lovely 
girls  would  have  acknowledged  that  their  country  was 
the  same  as  mine." 

After  studying  the  forward  cabin, — with  its  second- 
class  passengers  feasting  on  relics  of  the  first  cabin 
banquet,— Hawthorne  observes  the  crowd  of  the  forward 
deck,  who  had  no  cabin  at  all,  not  even  for  their  sleep ; 
this  being  "  on  the  wide  promiscuous  couch  of  the 
deck,"  where  men  and  women  carelessly  disrobed,  and 
lay  where  they  could.  "  A  single  lamp  shed  a  dim  ray 
over  the  scene,  and  there  was  also  a  dusky  light  from  the 
boat's  furnaces  which  enabled  me  to  distinguish  quite 
as  much  as  it  was  allowable  to  look  upon,  and  a  good 
deal  more  than  it  would  be  decorous  to  describe.  .  .  . 
I  know  not  what  their  habits  might  have  been  in  their 
native  land ;  but,  since  they  quitted  it,  these  poor  people 


HA  WTHORNE.  49> 

had  led  such  a  life  in  the  steerages  of  the  vessels  that 
brought  them  across  the  Atlantic,  that  they  probably 
stepped  ashore  far  ruder  and  wilder  beings  than  they 
had  embarked;  and  afterwards,  thrown  homeless  upon 
the  wharves  of  Quebec  and  Montreal,  and  left  to  wander 
whither  they  might,  and  subsist  how  they  could,  it  was 
impossible  for  their  moral  natures  not  to  have  become 
wofully  deranged  and  debased.  I  was  grieved,  also,, 
to  discern  a  want  of  fellow-feeling  among  them.  They 
appeared,  it  is  true,  to  form  one  community,  but  con- 
nected by  no  other  bond  than  that  which  pervades  a 
flock  of  wild  geese  in  the  sky,  or  a  herd  of  wild  horses 
in  the  desert.  They  were  all  going  the  same  way,  by  a 
sort  of  instinct, — some  laws  of  mutual  aid  and  fellow- 
ship had  necessarily  been  established, — yet  each  in- 
dividual was  lonely  and  selfish.  Even  domestic  ties  did 
not  invariably  retain  their  hallowed  strength.  ...  I 
found  no  better  comfort  than  in  the  hope  and  trust 
that  it  might  be  with  these  homeless  exiles,  in  their 
passage  through  the  world,  as  it  was  with  them  and  all 
of  us  in  the  voyage  on  which  we  had  embarked  together, 
As  we  had  all  our  destined  port,  and  the  skill  of  the 
steersmen  would  suffice  to  bring  us  thither,  so  had  each 
of  these  poor  wanderers  a  home  in  futurity — and  the 
God  above  them  knew  where  to  find  it.  It  was  cheer- 
ing, also,  to  reflect  that  nothing  short  of  settled 
depravity  could  resist  the  strength  of  moral  influences, 
diffused  throughout  our  native  land;  that  the  stock  of 
home-bred  virtue  is  large  enough  to  absorb  and  neutra- 
lize so  much  of  foreign  vice ;  and  that  the  outcasts  of 
Europe,  if  not  by  their  own  choice,  yet  by  an  almost 

4 


50  LIFE  OF 

inevitable  necessity,  promote  the  welfare  of  the  country 
that  receives  them  to  its  bosom." 

It  will  not  be  wondered  that  Hawthorne's  imagination 
was  touched  by  the  announcement  that  an  Italian  had 
discovered  some  chemical  means  of  petrifying  the  dead, 
converting  them  as  it  were  into  statues. 

"  But  Segato's  greatest  curiosity  is  a  table,  inlaid  with 
two  hundred  pieces  of  stone  (or  what  appears  such)  of 
splendid  and  variegated  hues,  admirably  polished,  and 
so  extremely  hard  that  a  file  can  scarcely  make  the 
slightest  scratch  upon  them.  These  stones,  which  would 
be  mistaken  for  specimens  of  the  most  precious  marbles, 
are  different  portions  of  the  human  body — the  heart, 
liver,  pancreas,  spleen,  tongue,  brain,  and  arteries. 
Thus  a  multitude  of  men  and  women,  once  alive,  have 
contributed  fragments  of  their  vital  organs  to  form 
Segato's  inlaid  table ;  a  poet,  perhaps,  has  given  his 
brain,  an  orator  his  tongue,  a  hypochondriac  his  spleen, 
and  a  love-sick  girl  her  heart — for  even  so  tender  a 
thing  as  a  young  girl's  heart  can  now  be  changed  to 
stone.  In  her  lifetime  it  may  be  all  softness ;  but  after 
death,  if  it  pass  through  Segato's  hands,  a  file  can  make 
no  impression  on  it.  ...  Instead  of  seeking  the  sculp- 
tor's aid  to  perpetuate  the  form  and  features  of 
distinguished  men,  the  public  may  henceforth  possess 
the  very  shape  and  substance,  when  the  aspiring  souls 
have  left  them.  The  statesman  may  stand  in  the  legisla- 
tive hall  where  he  once  led  the  debate,  as  indestructible 
as  the  marble  pillars  which  support  the  roof.  He  might 
be  literally  a  pillar  of  state.  Daniel  Webster's  form 
might  help  to  uphold  the  Capitol,  assisted  by  the  great 


HA  WTHORNE.  51 

of  all  parties,  each  lending  a  strong  arm  to  the  good 
cause.  The  warrior — our  own  old  General — might  stand 
forever  on  the  summit  of  a  battle-monument  overlooking 
his  field  of  victory  at  New  Orleans.  Nay,  every  mortal, 
when  the  heart  has  ceased  to  beat,  may  be  straightway 
turned  into  a  tombstone,  and  our  cemeteries  be  thronged 
with  the  people  of  past  generations,  fixing  their  frozen 
stare  upon  the  living  world. 

"But  never  may  we — the  writer — stand  amid  that 
marble  crowd  !  In  God's  own  time  we  would  fain  be 
buried  as  our  fathers  were.  We  desire  to  give  mortality 
its  own.  Our  clay  must  not  be  baulked  of  its  repose. 
We  are  willing  to  let  it  moulder  beneath  the  little 
hillock,  and  that  the  sods  should  gradually  settle  down, 
and  leave  no  traces  of  our  grave.  We  have  no  yearnings 
for  the  grossness  of  this  earthly  immortality.  If  some- 
what of  our  soul  and  intellect  might  live  in  the  memory 
of  men,  we  should  be  glad.  It  would  be  an  image  of 
the  etherial  and  indestructible.  But  what  belongs  to 
earth,  let  the  earth  take  it." 

So  early  did  he  sound  the  note  that  was  last  on  his 
lips.  In  another  paper  the  English  Dr.  Philip's  opinion 
(that  we  have  two  systems — a  sensitive,  which  alternates 
between  excitement  and  exhaustion,  recovered  from  by 
sleep  ;  a  vital  system  that  never  sleeps)  is  carefully 
stated,  and  reflections  added : 

"Hence  we  may  infer  that  no  living  creature  has  ever 
been  more  than  half  asleep,  and  that  only  the  dead  sleep 
sound ;  their  bodies  we  mean  ;  for  their  spirits  are  then 
more  wide  awake  than  ever.  How  strange  and  myste- 
rious is  our  love  of  sleep !  Fond  as  we  are  of  life,  we 


52  LIFE  OF 

are  yet  content  to  spend  a  third  of  its  little  space  in 
what,  so  far  as  relates  to  our  own  consciousness,  is  a 
daily,  or  nightly,  annihilation.  We  congratulate  our- 
selves when  we  have  slept  soundly  ;  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  rejoicing  that  thus  much  of  time  has  been 
snatched  from  the  sum  total  of  our  existence — that  we 
are  several  steps  nearer  to  our  graves  without  perceiving 
how  we  arrived  thither,  or  gaining  either  knowledge  or 
enjoyment  on  the  way.  Well !  Eternity  will  make  up 
the  loss  ;  on  no  other  consideration  can  a  wise  man 
reconcile  himself  to  the  necessity  of  sleep." 

A  little  essay  on  "  April  Fools,"  commonplace  in  the 
beginning,  contains  presently  some  neat  satire,  that  on 
the  author  being  plainly  meant  for  himself : 

"  He  who  has  climbed  or  suffered  himself  to  be  lifted, 
to  a  station  for  which  he  is  unfit,  does  but  stand  upon  a 
pedestal  to  show  the  world  an  April  Fool.  The  gray- 
haired  man,  who  has  sought  the  joys  of  wedlock  with  a 
girl  in  her  teens,  and  the  young  girl  who  has  wedded  an 
old  man  for  his  wealth,  are  a  pair  of  April  Fools.  The 
married  couple  who  have  linked  themselves  for  life,  on 
the  strength  of  a  week's  liking ;  the  ill-matched  pair,  who 
turn  their  roughest  sides  towards  each  other,  instead  of 
making  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain  :  the  young  man  who 
has  doomed  himself  to  a  life  of  difficulties  by  a  too-early 
marriage ;  the  middle-aged  bachelor  who  is  waiting  to  be 
rich  ;  the  damsel  who  has  trusted  her  lover  too  far ;  the 
lover  who  is  downcast  for  a  damsel's  fickleness ; — all 
these  are  April  Fools.  The  farmer  who  has  left  a  good 
homestead  in  New  England,  to  migrate  to  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  or  anywhere  else  on  this  side  of  heaven  ;  the 


HA  WTHORNE.  53 

fresh-cheeked  youth  who  has  gone  to  find  his  grave  in 
New  Orleans  ;  the  Yankees,  who  have  enlisted  for  Texas ; 
the  merchant  who  has  speculated  on  a  French  war ;  the 
author  who  writes  for  fame — or  for  bread — if  he  can  do 
better  :  the  student  who  has  turned  aside  from  the  path 
of  his  profession,  and  gone  astray  in  poetry  and  fanciful- 
ness  ; — what  are  these  but  a  motley  group  of  April 
Fools  ?  And  the  wiseacre  who  thinks  himself  a  fool  in 
nothing.  Oh,  superlative  April  Fool  !  " 

The  allusion  to  Texas  in  the  above  passage  is  notable. 
Hawthorne  was  always  associated  with  the  Democratic 
party,  which  was  sympathetic  with  the  "  filibusters "  in 
Texas. 

A  wood-cut  of  George  Washington,  surrounded  by 
emblems,  is  accompanied  by  an  article  which  concludes 
with  a  suggestion  of  some  novelty  when  it  was  written : 
"  These  emblems  refer  exclusively  to  Washington's 
military  deeds.  But  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that 
it  is  not  merely  in  the  character  of  a  hero  that  his  fame 
shines  resplendent,  and  will  remain  undimmed  by  the 
gathering  mist  of  ages.  It  is  true  that  no  other  man 
possessed  the  peculiar  military  talent,  the  caution  mingled 
with  boldness,  the  judgment,  the  equanimity  which  never 
sank  too  low  nor  rose  too  high,  that  were  requisite  to 
carry  us  triumphantly  through  the  Revolutionary  contest. 
Yet  it  may  be  justly  said  that,  even  while  the  war  was 
raging,  his  civil  virtues  and  abilities  held  no  inferior 
place  to  those  which  marked  him  as  a  soldier.  It  was 
his  moral  strength  of  character  that  gave  firmness  to  a 
tottering  cause.  Other  great  generals  have  been  idolized 
by  their  armies  because  victory  was  sure  to  follow  where 


54  LIFE  OF 

they  led  ;  their  fame  has  been  won  by  triumphant 
marches  and  conquest  on  every  field.  Fortune  has  been 
the  better  half  of  all  their  deeds.  But  his  defeats  never 
snatched  one  laurel  from  the  brow  of  Washington.  In 
him  his  soldiers  recognized  qualities  far  superior  to 
those  of  the  mere  military  chieftain,  and  gave  him  their 
confidence  as  unreservedly  at  Long  Island  as  at  York- 
town.  And  in  the  troubled  times  that  succeeded  the 
Revolution,  no  influence  but  Washington's  could  have 
harmonized  the  discordant  elements  of  our  country  ;  no 
other  arm  could  have  upheld  the  State." 

The  picture  of  Washington,  and  several  others,  which 
appeared  in  The  American  Magazine  of.  Useful  and 
Entertaining  Knowledge,  were  such  to  cause  Hawthorne 
to  insert  in  the  number  for  August,  1836,  an  "  editorial" 
note  which  may  not  have  gratified  the  proprietor.  "  It  is 
proper  to  remark  that  we  have  not  had  full  control  of  the 
contents  of  the  Magazine,  inasmuch  as  the  embellish- 
ments have  chiefly  been  selected  by  the  executive  officers 
of  the  Boston  Bewick  Company,  or  by  the  engravers 
themselves." 

When  it  is  considered  that  the  Company  derived  its 
name  from  the  famous  English  artist  and  engraver,  the 
reader  will  not  be  surprised  at  learning  that  its  wretched 
illustrations  preceded  approaching  death. 

Even  in  small  statistical  paragraphs  Hawthorne  was 
apt  to  insert  subtle  sentences.  In  one  on  "  Comparative 
Longevity,"  he  finds  a  crevice  for  this  seed  :  "  It  is  not 
we  hope  irreverent  to  say  that  the  Creator  gave  us  our 
world  in  a  certain  sense  unfinished,  and  left  it  to  the 
ingenuity  of  man  to  bring  it  to  the  highest  perfection  of 


HA  WTHORNE.  55 

which  finite  and  physical  things  are  capable."  Amid  dry 
antiquarian  notes  on  "  Bells,"  we  find  a  pregnant  passage  : 
"Every  little  chapel  in  the  wilderness,  where  the  French 
Jesuits  preached  to  the  red-men,  had  its  bell.  We  recol- 
lect to  have  seen,  in  the  museum  of  Bowdoin  College, 
one  which  we  believe  had  belonged  to  the  chapel  of  the 
martyred  Father  Ralle.  After  the  priest  was  slain,  and 
his  altar  desecrated  by  the  bloody  hands  of  the  New 
England  rangers,  this  bell,  if  we  mistake  not,  lay  hidden 
many  years  beneath  the  forest  leaves ;  until  being  acci- 
dentally brought  to  light,  it  was  suspended  in  the  belfry 
of  the  College  Chapel.  The  adventures  of  this  bell 
would  form  a  pretty  and  fanciful  story,  which  we  should 
be  glad  to  write,  if  it  were  in  our  nature  to  be  guilty  of 
such  nonsensical  scribblings." 

The  smile  behind  his  mask  in  this  last  sentence  is  an 
early  instance  of  one  of  Hawthorne's  favourite  arts. 
What  with  this,  his  change  of  the  inherited  name,  and 
his  pseudonyms,  the  public  is  hardly  chargeable  for  the 
"distinction"  claimed  in  his  preface  to  "Twice-told 
Tales,"  that  he  was  "  for  a  good  many  years,  the  obscurest 
man  of  letters  in  America."  This  hiding  of  his  name 
was  due,  as  has  been  said,  to  the  necessity  that  Goodrich's 
Token  should  not  appear  to  depend  so  much  on  a 
single  writer.  Hawthorne  longed  for  recognition,  and 
was  deeply  gratified  by  a  notice  of  his  stories  in  the 
London  Athenaum,  Nov.  7,  1835,  declaring  each  of 
them  to  have  "  singular  ty  enough  to  recommend  it  to 
the  reader."  "  My  worshipful  self,"  he  writes  home,  "is 
a  very  famous  man  in  London,  the  Athen&um  having 
noticed  all  my  articles  in  the  last  Token,  with  long. 


56  LIFE  OF 

extracts."  This  recognition  of  Hawthorne,  credited  to 
Henry  Chorley,  brought  one  sweet  flower  to  the  dismal 
vale  from  which  he  could  not  emerge.  On  Christmas 
Day,  1854,  he  wrote  in  his  journal  a  pathetic  passage  : 
"  I  think  I  have  been  happier  this  Christmas  than  ever 
before — by  my  own  fireside  and  with  my  wife  and 
children  about  me — more  content  to  enjoy  what  I  have, 
less  anxious  for  anything  beyond  it  in  this  life.  My  early 
life  was  perhaps  a  good  preparation  for  the  declining  half 
of  life ;  it  having  been  such  a  blank  that  any  thereafter 
would  compare  favourably  with  it.  For  a  long,  long 
while  I  have  occasionally  been  visited  with  a  singular 
dream  ;  and  I  have  an  impression  that  I  have  dreamed 
it  ever  since  I  have  been  in  England.  It  is  that  I  am 
still  at  college — or,  sometimes  even  at  school — and  there 
is  a  sense  that  I  have  been  there  unconscionably  long, 
and  have  quite  failed  to  make  such  progress  as  my  con- 
temporaries have  done ;  and  I  seem  to  meet  some  of 
them  with  a  feeling  of  shame  and  depression  that  broods 
over  me  as  I  think  of  it,  even  when  awake.  This  dream, 
recurring  through  all  these  twenty  or  thirty  years,  must 
be  one  of  the  effects  of  that  heavy  seclusion  in  which  I 
shut  myself  up  for  twelve  years  after  leaving  college,  when 
everybody  moved  on  and  left  me  behind.  How  strange 
that  it  should  come  now  when  I  may  call  myself  famous 
and  prosperous  !--and  happy,  too  ! " 

In  the  last  of  the  twelve  years,  mentioned  in  this 
passage,  he  received  a  cordial  letter  from  one  of  his 
most  successful  classmates,  the  poet  Longfellow,  and  in 
his  reply  (published  by  Mr.  Lathrop)  says  : — 


HAWTHORNE.  57 

' '  It  gratifies  me  that  you  have  occasionally  felt  an  interest  in  my 
situation  ;  but  your  quotation  from  Jean  Paul  about  the  '  lark's 
nest '  makes  me  smile.  You  would  have  been  much  nearer  the 
truth  if  you  had  pictured  me  as  dwelling  in  an  owl's  nest ;  for  mine 
is  about  as  dismal,  and,  like  the  owl,  I  seldom  venture  abroad  till 
after  dusk.  By  some  witchcraft  or  other — for  I  really  cannot  assign 
any  reasonable  why  and  wherefore — I  have  been  carried  apart  from 
the  main  current  of  life,  and  find  it  impossible  to  get  back  again. 
Since  we  last  met,  which  you  remember  was  in  Sawtell's  room, 
where  you  read  a  farewell  poem  to  the  relics  of  the  class — ever  since 
that  time  I  have  secluded  myself  from  society ;  and  yet  I  never 
meant  any  such  thing,  nor  dreamed  what  sort  of  life  I  was  going  to 
lead.  I  have  made  a  captive  of  myself,  and  put  me  into  a  dungeon, 
and  now  I  cannot  find  the  key  to  let  myself  out — and  if  the  door 
were  open,  I  should  be  almost  afraid  to  come  out.  You  tell  me 
that  you  have  met  with  troubles  and  changes.  I  know  not  what  these 
may  have  been,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  trouble  is  the  next  best 
thing  to  enjoyment,  and  that  there  is  no  fate  in  this  world  so  horrible 
as  to  have  no  share  in  its  joys  or  sorrows.  For  the  last  ten  years  I 
have  not  lived,  but  only  dreamed  of  living.  It  may  be  true  that 
there  have  been  some  unsubstantial  pleasures,  here  in  the  shade, 
which  I  might  have  missed  in  the  sunshine,  but  you  cannot  conceive 
how  utterly  devoid  of  satisfaction  all  my  retrospects  are.  I  have 
laid  up  no  treasure  of  pleasant  remembrances  against  old  age  ;  but 
there  is  some  comfort  in  thinking  that  future  years  can  hardly  fail  to 
be  more  varied,  and  therefore  more  tolerable  than  the  past." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HAWTHORNE'S  early  fear  of  entering  freely  into 
society  may  have  been  partly  due  to  his  con- 
sciousness of  a  certain  morbid  susceptibility  to  the 
influence  of  persons.  Without  sensual  proclivities  he 
was  liable  to  the  charms  of  beauty  and  graceful  ways. 
"About  the  year  1833,"  writes  his  sister  to  Una  Haw- 
thorne, "  your  father,  after  a  sojourn  of  two  or  three 
weeks  at  Swampscott,  came  home  captivated,  in  his 
fanciful  way,  with  a  '  mermaid,'  as  he  called  her.  He 
would  not  tell  us  her  name,  but  said  she  was  of  the 
aristocracy  of  the  village,  the  keeper  of  a  little  shop. 
She  gave  him  a  sugar  heart,  a  pink  one,  which  he  kept  a 
great  while,  and  then  (how  boyish,  but  how  like  him  !)  he 
ate  it.  You  will  find  her,  I  suspect,  in  '  The  Village 
Uncle.'  She  is  Susan.  He  said  she  had  a  great  deal  of 
what  the  French  call  espieglerie.  At  that  time  he  had 
fancies  like  this  whenever  he  went  from  home."  In  the 
story,  apostrophising  the  Swampscott  "mermaid,"  he 
says :  "  Nature  wrought  the  charm.  She  made  you  a 
frank,  simple,  kind-hearted,  sensible,  and  mirthful  girl. 
Obeying  nature,  you  did  free  things  without  indelicacy, 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  59 

displayed  a  maiden's  thoughts  to  every  eye,  and  proved 
yourself  as  innocent  as  naked  Eve." 

But  all  of  the  fair  fascinators  Hawthorne  met  were  not 
so  guileless  as  the  mermaid,  and  one  of  them  caused  a 
shadow  to  fall  on  his  life,  which  was  never  lifted.  In 
this  case  the  young  lady,  whose  name  is  withheld  by 
Julian  Hawthorne,  was  of  high  social  position,  and 
ambitious  of  capturing  the  new  author  in  her  train  of 
admirers.  She  succeeded  in  engaging  his  sympathetic 
interest  in  her  confidences,  but  not  receiving  his  in 
return,  concluded  to  utilise  him  in  making  herself  the 
centre  of  a  sensational  situation.  She  confided  to 
Hawthorne  that  one  of  his  friends  had  attempted  to 
practice  the  basest  treachery  upon  her,  and  passionately 
invoked  his  championship.  The  accusation  had  no 
vestige  of  truth,  and  Hawthorne  challenged  his  friend, 
only  to  be  shown  that  he  had  been  made  a  fool  of  by  the 
artifices  of  a  coquette  anxious  to  be  the  heroine  of  a 
duel.  The  unhappy  affair  seemed  to  have  ended  with 
no  worse  result  than  Hawthorne's  humiliation  ;  but  it 
was  not  so  to  be.  Long  after  it  was  forgiven  and  for- 
gotten by  his  friend,  and  transmuted  into  experience  by 
himself,  and  in  the  moment  of  his  happy  betrothal,  this 
incident  returned  on  him  with  tragical  and  far-reaching 
sequels. 

The  Hon.  Jonathan  Cilley,  his  former  college  friend, 
was  challenged  by  another  member  of  Congress,  Graves 
of  Kentucky,  and  was  induced,  by  the  citation  of 
Hawthorne's  example,  to  fight  the  duel  in  which  he 
fell.  It  was  painful  enough  for  Hawthorne  to  find  the 
miserable  infatuation  and  blunder  that  had  seemed 


60  LIFE  OF 

buried  rising  up  to  end  the  brilliant  career  of  his 
friend ;  but  even  this  was  not  all.  Cilley  was  shot 
down  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  endeavouring 
to  secure  from  the  new  democratic  administration,  with 
which  he  had  much  influence,  a  lucrative  post  for  Haw- 
thorne. This  last  fact,  which  would  certainly  be  known 
to  Hawthorne,  is  attested  by  a  letter  published  in  the 
London  Athenaum,  Aug.  17,  1889.  It  was  written  in  1843, 
by  J.  L.  O'Sullivan  to  Hon.  Henry  A.  Wise,  asking  his 
influence  with  the  administration  to  appoint  Hawthorne 
postmaster  of  Salem.  In  the  Cilley  duel  Wise  had  been 
the  second  of  Graves — not  a  principal,  as  Julian  Haw- 
thorne supposes — and  O'Sullivan  alludes  to  this  fact. 
"  One  of  Hawthorne's  few  intimate  and  fast  friends  was 
Cilley,  who  had  been  a  college  companion.  It  was  he 
who  first  interested  me  in  him  —  who  was  himself 
earnestly  desirous  to  obtain  some  such  suitable  pro- 
vision for  him,  and  specifically  this  very  appointment — 
who  would  have  done  it,  had  he  not  fallen,  so  unhappily 
for  us  all,  and  most  of  all,  I  doubt  not,  my  dear  sir,  for 
you — and  from  whom  it  has  always  since  rested  on  my 
mind  as  a  bequeathed  duty  to  be  performed  for  him  and 
in  his  name." 

Hawthorne  was  not  like  Goethe,  whose  mother  said 
that  he  could  get  rid  of  any  grief  by  putting  it  into  a 
poem.  When  he  had  embodied  his  mournful  memories 
in  such  pieces  as  "The  Haunted  Mind,"  and  "  Fancy's 
Show-box,"  they  all  the  more  took  up  their  abode  with 
him.  There  is  a  great  pain  in  some  of  his  casual  sen- 
tences, as  where  he  exclaims  :  "  Would  that  I  had  a  folio 
to  write,  instead  of  an  article  of  a  dozen  pages  !  Then 


HA  WTHORNE.  61 

might  I  exemplify  how  an  influence,  beyond  our  control, 
lays  its  strong  hand  on  every  deed  which  we  do, 
and  weaves  its  consequences  into  an  iron  tissue  of 
necessity." 

When  Hawthorne  wrote  the  words  just  quoted  (from 
"  Wakefield  "),  the  ghost  of  Cilley  seemed  finally  laid,  so 
far  as  his  life  was  concerned,  however  it  might  still  haunt 
his  mind.  During  the  summer  before  Cilley's  death,  he 
and  Hawthorne  met  in  Maine,  for  the  first  time  since 
their  graduation.  The  memorandum  concerning  him 
("Am.  Note  Books,"  i.  87)  shows  that  Cilley  had  become 
too  much  the  politician  to  satisfy  Hawthorne,  though  he 
felt  the  unimpaired  depth  of  his  classmate's  friendship 
for  himself.  But  when  the  young  statesman  had  fallen 
into  a  grave,  at  which  Hawthorne  had  so  much  cause  to 
be  the  sincerest  mourner,  all  his  faults  were  buried,  his 
virtues  alone  remained.  Hawthorne  was  naturally  eager 
to  do  justice  to  his  friend's  memory,  and  accepted  the 
invitation  of  O' Sullivan  to  prepare  a  sketch  of  Cilley  for 
The  Democratic  Review.  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  G.  M. 
Williamson  for  an  interesting  letter,  addressed — "  Post- 
master, Thomaston,  Maine  "  : 

"  SALEM,  March  15,  1838. 

"  SIR, — I  was  a  particular  friend  of  the  late  lamented  Mr.  Cilley ; 
and  the  editor  of  The  Democratic  Review  has  requested  me  to  write 
a  biographical  sketch  of  him  for  that  publication.  As  it  might 
appear  indelicate  in  a  stranger  to  intrude  upon  his  family,  I  have 
been  induced  to  apply  to  you,  in  the  hope  that  you  will  have  it  in 
your  power  to  favour  me  with  a  few  facts  respecting  his  life.  In 
regard  to  his  early  life  I  can  obtain  information  from  other  sources, 
and  will  trouble  you  merely  for  a  brief  account  of  the  incidents 
which  occurred  during  his  residence  in  Thomaston.  The  date  of  his 


62  LIFE  OF 

marriage — his  wife's  name  and  parentage — his  character  and  success 
as  a  lawyer — his  entrance  into  political  life,  &c. — these  are  the 
principal  topics  on  which  information  appears  desirable. 

"  I  trust  that  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  which  I  have  taken  ;  and, 
if  inconvenient  for  you  to  comply  with  my  request,  please  to  hand 
this  letter  to  some  relation  or  friend  of  Mr.  Cilley.  As  I  have  but 
a  short  time  in  which  to  prepare  the  biographical  sketch,  it  will  be 
necessary  that  any  information  should  be  sent  me  within  two  or 
three  days  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter. 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  letter  is  scrawled  :  "  Mr.  Fuler 
you  may  ansor  this  if  you  please  perhaps  it  would  be 
well  so  to  do." 

Cilley  had  represented  Thomaston  in  the  Maine  Legis- 
lature five  years,  but  Hawthorne  apparently  got  little 
by  his  application.  His  paper,  which  appeared  in  The 
Democratic  Review^  is  remarkable  on  many  accounts. 
There  had  been  a  schism  in  the  democratic  party  in 
Maine,  and  Cilley  represented  the  triumphant  side. 
Hawthorne  narrated  all  this  with  such  art  that  it  is 
difficult  to  say  to  which  wing  he  leaned,  and  both  might 
unite  over  the  dead  statesman  to  recognize  the  brilliant 
qualities  he  had  displayed  amid  hostilities  then  ended. 
Hawthorne's  reminiscence  of  his  last  meeting  with  his 
friend,  and  study  of  his  character,  are  ideal  in  their  way. 
Near  the  close  comes  a  pregnant  passage  :  "  On  the  23rd 
of  February  last,  Mr.  Cilley  received  a  challenge  from 
Mr.  Graves,  of  Kentucky,  through  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Wise,  of  Virginia.  This  measure,  as  is  declared  in  the 
challenge  itself,  was  grounded  on  Mr.  Cilley's  refusal  to 
receive  a  message,  of  which  Mr.  Graves  had  been  the 


HA  WTHORNE.  63 

bearer,  from  a  person  of  disputed  respectability ;  although 
no  exception  to  that  person's  character  had  been  ex- 
pressed by  Mr.  Cilley;  nor  need  such  inference  have 
been  drawn,  unless  Mr.  Graves  were  conscious  that 
public  opinion  held  his  friend  in  a  doubtful  light.  The 
challenge  was  accepted,  and  the  parties  met  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  They  exchanged  two  shots  with  rifles.  After 
each  shot  a  conference  was  held  between  the  friends  of 
both  parties,  and  the  most  generous  avowals  of  respect 
and  kindly  feeling  were  made  on  the  part  of  Cilley 
towards  his  antagonist,  but  without  avail.  A  third  shot 
was  exchanged ;  and  Mr.  Cilley  fell  dead  into  the  arms 
of  one  of  his  friends.  ...  A  challenge  was  never  given 
on  a  more  shadowy  pretext;  a  duel  was  never  pressed 
to  a  fatal  close  in  the  face  of  such  open  kindness  as 
was  expressed  by  Mr.  Cilley ;  and  the  conclusion  is 
inevitable,  that  Mr.  Graves,  and  his  principal  second, 
Mr.  Wise,  have  gone  further  than  their  own  dreadful 
code  will  warrant  them,  and  overstepped  the  imaginary 
distinction,  which,  on  their  own  principles,  separates 
manslaughter  from  murder. 

"Alas  that  over  the  grave  of  a  dear  friend,  my 
sorrow  for  the  bereavement  must  be  mingled  with 
another  grief  —  that  he  threw  away  such  a  life  in  so 
miserable  a  cause  !  Why,  as  he  was  true  to  the  Northern 
character  in  all  things  else,  did  he  swerve  from  his 
Northern  principles  in  this  final  scene?" 

Alas,  none  could  answer  this  question  so  fully  as  the 
conscience  of  him  who  puts  it :  because  his  friend 
Hawthorne  had  once  challenged  a  friend  to  mortal 
combat ! 


64  LIFE  OF 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Hon.  Henry  A. 
Wise  failed  to  take  note  of  the  virtual  charge  of  murder 
published  in  the  high  democratic  organ,  or  that  he 
had  not  discovered  the  author.  It  is  strange  that 
O'Sullivan,  editor  of  the  Review,  should  have  ventured 
to  write  to  Wise  the  appeal  in  Hawthorne's  behalf  already 
quoted.  At  any  rate  it  was  ineffectual.  Five  years  after 
Cilley's  fall  had  ended  Hawthorne's  hope  of  the  Salem 
postmastership,  his  ghost  raised  by  our  author's  tribute, 
rose  to  bar  the  way.  And  we  shall  see  that  even  this 
was  not  the  last  recoil  on  him  of  his  quixotic  champion- 
ship of  a  coquette,  nor  the  last  time  that  Cilley's  gory 
locks  were  shaken  at  him  ! 

But  the  thread  of  our  narrative  must  be  resumed. 
Hawthorne  was  saved  from  despair,  at  the  time  of  his 
friend's  death,  by  a  great  joy.  Soon  after  that  tragedy 
he  became  the  accepted  lover  of  Sophia  Amelia  Pea- 
body,  daughter  of  a  physician  in  Salem.  There  were  six 
children  in  this  family,  and  little  means  for  their  support ; 
but  the  three  daughters  managed  to  secure  excellent 
education,  and  became  distinguished  women.  The 
eldest,  Elizabeth,  still  lives  in  honoured  age.  She  was 
taught  Greek  by  Emerson,  while  he  was  a  student  of 
divinity  at  Harvard,  and  his  estimate  of  her  important 
services  to  American  thought  has  already  been  men- 
tioned. Elizabeth  partly  taught  her  younger  sisters, 
Mary  and  Sophia.  Of  these  the  former  became  wife  of 
the  Hon.  Horace  Mann,  and  her  biography  of  that 
eminent  educator  and  statesman  is  among  the  most 
valuable  of  American  books.  Sophia,  an  invalid  from 
childhood,  had  read  a  good  deal,  was  of  poetic  tern- 


HA  WTHORNE.  65 

perament,  and  had  received  lessons  in  painting  from 
Allston.  The  long  engagement  is  represented  by  the 
pretty  pictures  she  sent  her  lover,  and  by  his  letters — 
more  burning  than  the  flame  to  which  he  committed  hers, 
lest  other  eyes  should  read  them.  She  made  a  picture 
of  the  "  Gentle  Boy  "  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  which  caused 
him  to  publish  the  story  separately.  The  picture  was 
etched  by  Elizabeth  Peabody,  and  the  dedication  is  : 
"To  Miss  Sophia  A.  Peabody  this  little  Tale,  to  which 
her  kindred  Art  has  given  value,  is  respectfully  inscribed 
by  the  Author."  This  was  in  1839,  and  the  publication 
must  have  cost  Hawthorne  more  than  he  could  well 
spare ;  but  it  was  characteristic  of  his  nature  not  to 
count  the  cost  of  alabaster  beside  an  offering  of  love. 

It  was  not  until  three  years  later  that  the  marriage  took 
place.  Julian  Hawthorne  attributes  this  three  years' 
engagement  to  Hawthorne's  apprehension  that  his  mar- 
riage with  an  invalid  would  seriously  affect  his  mother's 
happiness  and  health.  As  its  actual  effect  was  the 
reverse,  one  cannot  repress  some  scepticism  on  this 
explanation.  The  more  obvious  difficulty  was  that 
Hawthorne  had  only  twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year  from 
a  precarious  office.  As  Miss  Peabody  could  bring  him 
no  resources,  there  would  appear  good  cause  for  the 
postponement.  But  meanwhile  the  betrothal  appears 
to  have  made  the  three  years  wonderfully  happy.  The 
tomb  and  the  dungeon  which,  he  says,  are  in  the  depths 
of  every  heart,  were  overlaid  with  tender  messages,  and 
pretty  dreams  in  pictures.  Under  the  kiss  of  her  hero 
Sophia,  like  another  Dornroschen,  had  arisen,  and  left 
all  her  thorns  of  weakness  and  pain.  On  the  other  hand, 

5 


60  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

the  spell  that  bound  him  was  broken.  "  Sometimes," — 
to  quote  one  letter  (1840) — "in  our  old  Salem  house, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had  only  life  enough  to  know 
that  I  was  not  alive;  for  I  had  no  wife  then  to  keep 
my  heart  warm.  But,  at  length,  you  were  revealed  to 
me,  in  the  shadow  of  a  seclusion  deep  as  my  own.  I 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  you,  and  opened  my  heart  to 
you,  and  you  came  to  me,  and  will  remain  for  ever, 
keeping  my  heart  warm  and  renewing  my  life  with  your 
own." 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  early  culture  of  Hawthorne  is  especially  trace- 
able in  his  little  allegory,  "A  Virtuoso's  Collec- 
tion." The  idea  itself,  of  the  Wandering  Jew  making  a 
selection  of  the  creations  of  mythology  and  poetry, 
ancient  and  modern,  and  exhibiting  them  in  the  light 
spirit  of  the  dilettante — all  miracles  being  trivial  com- 
pared with  himself,  and  his  own  eternity  too  familiar  for 
wonder — shows  Hawthorne  held  fast  by  the  glittering 
eye  of  the  Day  whose  doom  of  unrest  had  passed  on  the 
intellectual  age.  In  his  seventeenth  year  (Oct.  1820),  he 
writes  to  his  sister  that  he  has  read  "St.  Leon,"  and  adds, 
11 1  admire  Godwin's  novels,  and  intend  to  read  them  all." 
"St.  Leon"  is  one  of  the  earliest  appearances  of  the 
"  undying  one,'''  in  modern  literature.  That  type  of  the 
human  spirit,  parted  hopelessly  from  the  faith  on  which 
it  had  so  long  found  rest,  destined  to  wander  endlessly, 
rose  in  various  shapes  before  all  the  intellectual  children 
of  the  nineteenth  century — Shelley,  Goethe,  Byron, 
Wordsworth,  Carlyle,  Heine,  Quinet,  Hans  Anderson, 
Emerson,  Tennyson,  Richard  Wagner  (whose  "  Wodan, 
wanderer  of  the  Air,"  and  "  Flying  Dutchman,  wanderer 
of  the  Sea,"  are  brothers  of  the  earth-travelled  Ahasuerus), 


68  LIFE  OF 

These  and  many  others  were  fascinated  by  this  idealized 
Wandering  Jew.  The  impression  made  by  "  St.  Leon  " 
on  the  youth  is  recorded  in  his  reply  to  the  Virtuoso, 
who  offers  him  a  draught  of  the  elixir  of  life  :  "  No  ;  I 
desire  no  earthly  immortality.  Were  man  to  live  longer 
on  the  earth,  the  spiritual  would  die  out  of  him."  This 
theme  yielded  Hawthorne  subtle  variations— as  in  "  Dr. 
Heidegger's  Experiment"  (partly  appropriated  by  Dumas), 
and  later  in  "  Septimius  Felton,"  and  the  "  Dolliver 
Romance." 

In  this  connection  a  variant  in  "  A  Virtuoso's  Collec- 
tion," is  especially  interesting, — namely,  "  Peter  Rugg." 
After  observing  Peter  Schlemihl's  shadow,  the  visitor 
perceives  a  figure  of  "  restless  aspect  and  dim,  confused, 
questioning  anxiety,"  who,  "half  starting  from  his  seat,, 
addressed  me,  '  I  beseech  you,  kind  sir,'  said  he,  in  a 
cracked,  melancholy  tone,  '  have  pity  on  the  most  unfor- 
tunate man  in  the  world.  For  heaven's  sake,  answer  me 
a  single  question  !  Is  this  the  town  of  Boston  ? '  '  You 
have  recognized  him  now,'  said  the  Virtuoso.  '  It  is 
Peter  Rugg,  the  missing  man.  I  chanced  to  meet  him 
the  other  day,  still  in  search  of  Boston,  and  conducted 
him  hither.' " 

The  story  of  "  Peter  Rugg,  the  Missing  Man,"  first 
appeared  in  Buckingham's  New  England  Galaxy,  Sept. 
10,  1824 — the  year  before  Hawthorne's  graduation.  It 
had  a  wide  newspaper  circulation  at  the  time,  and  has 
recently  appeared  in  Mr.  Stedman's  compilation  of 
selections  from  American  literature.  The  author  was 
William  Austin,  an  eminent  Boston  lawyer,  who  died  in 
1841.  In  1804,  Austin  published  a  volume  of  "  Letters 


HA  WTHORNE.  69 

from  London,"  which  show  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
authors  in  that  city,  Godwin  among  others.  So  he  also 
had  come  in  contact  with  "  St.  Leon."  In  the  New- 
York  Independent  (March  29,  1888)  Mr.  Wentworth 
Higginson  describes  Austin  as  "a  precursor  of  Haw- 
thorne." x  The  story  of  "  Peter  Rugg "  follows  pretty 
closely  that  of  the  "  Flying  Dutchman  "  (whose  autograph, 
by  the  way,  is  in  "  A  Virtuoso's  Collection  ").  Overtaken 
by  a  storm  at  Menotomy,  now  Arlington,  a  few  miles  out 
of  Boston,  while  driving  with  his  child,  he  swore  to  get 
home  that  night,  or  never  see  home  again.  He  left 
Boston  in  1770,  but  for  fifty  years  after  is  now  and  then 

1  Mr.  Higginson  finds  "a  touch  of  Hawthorne"  in  another  of 
Austin's  stories,  "  The  late  Joseph  Natterstrom "  (New  England 
Magazine,  July,  1831).  This  hero  is  a  New  York  merchant,  in- 
trusted by  a  Turkish  correspondent  with  a  venture  in  which  a  fortune 
is  made,  which  fortune  the  New  Yorker  invests  and  re-invests, 
always  in  the  Turk's  name,  until  the  name  of  Natterstrom  is  utterly 
merged  ;  and  its  faithful  owner  comes  to  be  known  only  by  the  name 
of  the  Turk,  Ebn  Beg,  anglicised  into  Eben  Beck,  whose  wealth  is 
always  kept  sacred,  and  is  at  last  restored  to  him.  Mr.  Higginson 
has  told  me  in  conversation  the  plot  of  another  of  Austin's  stories, 
not  yet  traced  to  its  place  of  publication,  "The  Man  of  Cloaks." 
This  cold-hearted  man  cannot  get  warm  physically,  and  puts  on 
cloak  after  cloak.  But  one  day  he  does  some  act  of  kindness, 
and  finds  that  one  of  his  cloaks  may  be  removed.  By  similar 
actions  his  cloaks  are  rendered  successively  superfluous,  and  his 
temperature  is  humanized.  This  certainly  seems  "  Hawthornish. " 
Mr.  Higginson  also  notes  in  Austin's  style  something  of  what  he 
felicitously  calls  Hawthorne's  penumbra — suggesting  doubts  about 
his  own  statement,  discrediting  his  own  witnesses,  consulting  the 
reader  as  to  an  explanation,  e.g.,  "Whether  Rugg,  or  whoever 
the  person  was,  ever  passed  the  bridge  again,  the  toll-gatherer  would 
never  tell — and  when  questioned,  seemed  anxious  to  waive  the  sub- 
ject." 


70  LIFE  OF 

met  in  his  chaise,  with  his  child,  asking  the  way  to  Bos- 
ton, but  never  getting  there.  In  a  continuation,  how- 
ever (1825),  Peter  Rugg  reaches  Boston  at  the  moment 
when  an  auctioneer  is  offering  for  sale  his  own  ancient 
estate,  escheated  to  the  commonwealth.  The  house  is 
gone,  the  generation  Rugg  knew  is  gone,  and  in  response 
to  the  wanderer's  entreaty  for  recognition,  a  voice  from 
the  crowd  said :  "  There  is  nothing  strange  here  but 
yourself,  Mr.  Rugg.  Time,  which  destroys  and  renews 
all  things,  has  dilapidated  your  house  and  placed  us  here. 
You  have  suffered  many  years  under  an  illusion.  The 
tempest  which  your  profanely  defied  at  Menotomy  has  at 
length  subsided ;  but  you  will  never  see  home,  for  your 
house  and  wife  and  neighbours  have  all  disappeared. 
Your  estate  indeed  remains,  but  no  home.  You  were 
cut  off  from  the  last  age,  and  you  can  never  be  fitted  to 
the  present.  Your  home  is  gone,  and  you  can  never 
have  another  home  in  this  world." 

This  tale  is  artfully  rationalized  in  one  of  Hawthorne's 
most  original  tales.  "  Wakefield  "  pretends  to  be  leaving 
home  for  a  journey,  but  goes  into  the  next  street.  For  a 
time,  in  disguise,  he  watches  the  movements  of  his  wife, 
but  habit  hardens  his  whim  ;  sulkiness  at  the  supposed 
inadequacy  of  Mrs.  Wakefield's  sensations,  doubts  about 
his  reception  should  he  return,  difficulty  of  explanation, 
all  help  to  dig  a  gulf  between  him  and  his  house  in  the 
next  street.  He  has  lost  the  perception  of  singularity  in 
his  conduct;  he  is  spell-bound.  Standing  out  in  the 
wintry  evening  he  sees  on  the  ceiling  of  his  house  his 
wife's  shadow,  thrown  by  the  comfortable  firelight.  "  He 
ascends  the  steps  —  heavily  !  —  for  twenty  years  have 


HA  WTHORNE.  71 

stiffened  his  legs  since  he  went  down— but  he  knows  it 
not.  Stay,  Wakefield  !  Would  you  go  to  the  sole  home 
that  is  left  you  ?  Then  step  into  your  grave !  .  .  . 
Amid  the  seeming  confusion  of  our  mysterious  world, 
individuals  are  so  nicely  adjusted  to  a  system,  and 
systems  to  one  another,  and  to  a  whole,  that  by  stepping 
aside  for  a  moment,  a  man  exposes  himself  to  a  fearful 
risk  of  losing  his  place  for  ever.  Like  Wakefield,  he  may 
become,  as  it  were,  the  outcast  of  the  universe." 

This  is  a  version  of  what  the  voice  from  the  crowd 
said  to  Peter  Rugg,  when  he  at  last  reached  Boston.  I 
have  dwelt  on  the  point  more  because  it  appears  a  fine 
illustration  of  legitimate  intellectual  lineage.  Hawthorne 
is  pre-eminent  among  modern  imaginative  writers  for  the 
number  and  originality  of  his  plots,  his  only  equal  in  this 
respect,  perhaps,  being  Robert  Browning.  I  know  of  but 
one  instance  among  Hawthorne's  works  of  even  partial 
imitation.  "  Feathertop  "  seems  to  be  an  imitation  of 
Tieck's  "  Die  Vogelscheuche."  In  Tieck's  satire,  a  figure 
of  Robin  Hood,  made  of  leather,  but  exceeding  smart,  is 
used  as  a  scarecrow ;  becoming  vitalized  by  a  shooting 
star,  it  appears  as  Baron  Ledebrinna,  a  great  authority 
in  literary  circles.  Tieck  got  his  idea  from  HaufT's 
"  Young  Englishman,"  wherein  a  monkey,  dressed  and 
drilled  for  the  purpose,  is  introduced  by  an  Englishman 
as  his  nephew,  and  passed  off  in  the  best  German  society. 
This  Hawthorne  had  probably  not  seen,  but  his  "  Ameri- 
can Note  Books "  show  him  studying  German  from 
"Tieck's  tale"  (1843).  While  he  "plodded  onward  in 
the  rugged  and  bewildering  depths  of  Tieck's  tale,"  he 
is  "  sometimes  dimly  shaping  out  scenes  of  a  tale '" 


72  LIFE  OF 

{"  American  Note  Books,"  i.  pp.  260,  261).  But  here  is  a 
coincidence.  In  1840,  when  he  certainly  had  not  read 
Tieck,  Hawthorne  enters  in  his  "  Note  Book"  :  "  To  make 
a  story  out  of  a  scarecrow,  giving  it  odd  attributes.  From 
different  points  of  view,  it  should  appear  to  change — now 
an  old  man,  now  an  old  woman — a  gunner,  a  farmer,  or 
the  Old  Nick." 

If  Hawthorne  read  "Peter  Rugg,"  on  its  appearance 
(1824),  it  certainly  did  not  influence  his  earliest  work. 
Nothing  can  be  freer  from  Austin's  penumbra  than 
"Fanshawe."  One  might,  I  think,  pick  out  the  earlier 
compositions  of  Hawthorne  by  their  lack  of  the  mystical 
vein  which  runs  through  his  characteristic  works.  One 
of  his  much  admired  pieces,  "  The  Gentle  Boy,"  pathetic 
as  it  is,  pleases  the  reader  mainly  as  a  simple  narrative  of 
the  early  sufferings  of  a  Quaker  family.  It  has,  indeed, 
a  moral,  but  an  unconscious  one,  in  the  influence  of  the 
boy  on  the  Puritan  who  protected  him.  That  the  Puritan 
should  have  become  a  Quaker  is  an  incident  of  some 
autobiographic  value.  Hawthorne  appears  to  have 
studied  the  writings  of  the  sect  which  his  ancestors 
persecuted,  and  in  "  A  Virtuoso's  Collection,"  we  find 
the  startling  sentence  :  "  George  Fox's  hat  impressed  me 
with  deep  reverence  as  a  relic  of  perhaps  the  truest 
apostle  that  has  appeared  on  earth  for  these  eighteen 
hundred  years."  This  reverence  for  George  Fox  was 
characteristic  of  the  rise  of  what  was  called  "  Transcen- 
dentalism," in  New  England.  One  of  the  first  signs  was 
Emerson's  withdrawal  from  the  pulpit  because  of  his 
unwillingness  to  administer  the  sacrament  of  communion. 
This  was  the  great  religious  event  when  Hawthorne  was 


HA  WTHORNE.  73 

twenty-eight  years  of  age,  and  engaged  on  his  stories. 
His  writings  were  unconsciously  and  vaguely  influenced 
by  this  movement,  before  his  entrance  into  the  trans- 
cendental community  of  Brook  Farm. 

For  a  New  England  boy  of  sixty  years  ago,  whose 
weekly  holiday  morning  was  passed  in  a  congregational 
edifice  where  ugliness  was  held  a  part  of  godliness,  Bunyan 
was  a  benediction.  The  dismal  walls  were  frescoed 
with  visions  of  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  the  plain 
windows  passionate  with  the  piously-named  faerie  of 
the  old  dreamer.  Mr.  Lathrop  supposes  that  the  idea  of 
"  A  Virtuoso's  Collection  "  may  have  been  suggested  by 
the  exhibition  to  Christiana,  at  the  Palace  Beautiful,  of 
one  of  the  apples  Eve  ate  of,  and  Jacob's  ladder.  My 
friend  Mr.  Garnett,  of  the  British  Museum,  once  pointed 
out  to  me  the  suggestion  of  such  an  ideal  curiosity-shop 
in  the  "  Peau  de  Chagrin  "  of  Balzac  •  but  Mr.  Lathrop's 
view  seems  to  me  probable.  One  of  the  objects  shown, 
it  will  be  remembered,  was  Christian's  burden.  "  *  O 
pray  let  us  open  it ! '  cried  I.  *  For  many  a  year  I  have 
longed  to  know  its  contents.'  '  Look  into  your  own  con- 
sciousness and  memory,'  replied  the  Virtuoso.  '  You 
will  there  find  a  list  of  whatever  it  contains.'  " 

"  The  Celestial  Railroad  "  (which  first  appeared  in  The 
Democratic  Review,  May,  1843)  is  the  finest  tribute  ever 
paid  to  Bunyan's  genius.  It  is  also  the  height  of  Haw- 
thorne's humour.  The  opening  of  railways  in  regions 
where  in  boyhood  he  had  journeyed  on  foot,  the  frequent 
explosions  and  catastrophes  which  attended  the  earlier 
experiments  in  steam  travelling,  the  new  iron  forges  of 
New  York,  the  lighting  of  Fredonia,  New  York,  from  its 


74  LIFE  OF 

natural  gas  springs — entered  in  his  "  Note  Book  ''  (1837) 
with  the  query,  "What  moral  could  be  drawn  from  this? " — 
supplied  ample  scenery;  and  the  new  optimistic  theology 
of  Boston,  which  explained  away  biblical  menaces,  and 
smoothed  the  ancient  religious  difficulties,  presented  im- 
pressive contrasts  for  the  intellectual  hermit  whose  cell 
was  still  radiant  with  Bunyan's  visions.  Some  of  Haw- 
thorne's acquaintances  resented  this  satire,  in  which  the 
cave  of  Pope  and  Pagan  was  occupied  by  Giant  Trans- 
cendentalism, "  who  shouted  after  us,  but  in  so  strange 
a  phraseology  that  we  knew  not  what  he  meant,  nor 
whether  to  be  encouraged  or  affrighted  " ;  though  the 
dreamer  is  careful  not  to  make  this  giant  a  friend  of  the 
new  enterprize  by  which  Mr.  Smooth-it-away  and  Apollyon 
pretend  to  convey  pilgrims  to  the  Celestial  City.  The 
turning  of  Satan  and  Hell  into  metaphors  by  the 
Unitarians  and  Universalists  no  doubt  gave  rise  to  a  good 
deal  of  unctuous  self-indulgence.  It  is  more  clear  now 
than  fifty  years  ago  that  the  naturalistic  optimism  which 
resulted  from  the  revolution  against  orthodox  pessimism, 
failed  to  provide  in  place  of  the  Cross  any  means  whereby 
humanity  might  be  relieved  of  its  heavy  burdens,  inward 
and  outward.  ''The  Celestial  Railroad"  is,  therefore, 
more  likely  to  be  appreciated  by  a  liberal  reader  of  to-day 
than  when  it  was  written.  It  was  taken  seriously  by 
theological  opponents  of  rationalism,  and  its  hits  at  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Clog-the-spirit,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Wind-of-doctrine, 
were  by  no  means  taken  to  heart  by  themselves.  The 
churches  in  every  street  of  Vanity  Fair  were  of  course 
Unitarian  churches.  The  piece  was  actually  published 
by  the  American  Sunday  School  Union  (Philadephia), 


HA  WTHORNE.  75 

without    the    author's    name,    and    with    the    following 
note  : — 

"  The  following  allegory  (though  not  particularly  designed  for 
children)  very  strikingly  sets  forth  a' class  of  false  opinions  and  prac- 
tices which  are  common  among  men.  It  is  an  admirable  Commen- 
tary on  the  declaration  of  our  divine  Saviour,  Wide  is  the  gate,  and 
broad  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there  be  that 
go  in  thereat  ;  and  Strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the.  way  which 
leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it."  T 

There  are  evidences  of  Hawthorne's  careful  reading  of 
Shakespeare,  but  none  of  any  important  gains  from  that 
source.  The  temporary  influence  of  Walter  Scott  may 
be  traced  in  heroic  attitudes  of  certain  figures  in  the 
early  colonial  tales.  But  from  first  to  last  he  is  an 
insatiable  reader  of  classical  legends,  of  "  Arabian 
Nights  Tales,"  of  all  fairy  tales.  These  weird  or  aerial 
creatures  peep  out  from  beneath  Yankee  hats,  bonnets, 
and  veils ;  and  we  may  fancy  the  whole  troop  coming 
with  their  gifts  to  the  christening — if  she  ever  was 
christened — of  his  first-born  child,  Una,  who  stepped  out 
of  Spenser's  poem. 

But  this  allusion  may  remind  the  reader  that  we  have 
wandered  too  far  ahead  in  this  interlude. 

"  I  have  now,  or  shall  soon  have,  a  sharper  spur  to 
exertion,  which  I  lacked  at  an  earlier  period."  So  wrote 
Hawthorne  to  Longfellow  in  June,  1837.  What  was 

1  In  1847  tne  "Celestial  Railroad"  also  appeared  apparently  as 
a  tract  (Lowell:  D.  Skinner).  But  I  have  never  met  with  any 
copies  of  these  pious  publications  except  in  the  Hawthorne  collec- 
tion of  my  friend,  G.  M.  Williamson. 


76  LIFE  OF 

this  spur  ?     He  had  just  begun  a  friendship  with  Sophia 
Peabody,  and  may  have  foreseen  the  future. 

In  March  of  the  same  year  his  first  volume  had 
appeared,  the  first  series  of  "Twice-told  Tales."  It 
brought  him  an  excellent  review  by  Longfellow,  in  The 
North  American  Review*  and  awakened  the  interest  of 
literary  men  ;  but  these  were  few ;  or  perhaps  it  should 
be  said  that  the  literary  men  and  women  had  been 
generally  carried  away  into  spiritual  and  social  enthu- 
siasms of  the  time.  The  agitation  against  slavery  was 
rising  like  a  storm  ;  the  socialistic  propaganda  of  Robert 
Owen's  followers  was  filling  the  land.  The  cultured 
public  in  and  around  Boston,  which  Hawthorne  might 
naturally  have  interested,  was  preoccupied  with  the 
transcendental  lectures  of  Emerson  and  the  controver- 
sies which  had  sprung  up  around  that  mildest  of 
revolutionary  philosophers.  As  for  the  nation  at  large, 
its  reading  time  was  fully  occupied  with  comfortably 
pirated  editions  of  Scott,  Dickens,  and  other  English 
writers.  It  may  perhaps  be  regarded  as  a  success  that 
Hawthorne's  first  book  sold  over  six  hundred  copies  ! 
Him  it  brought  no  money.  With  the  prospect  of 
marriage  to  a  lady  without  means,  he  made  for  himself 
the  discovery  which  all  American  authors  before  and 
since  have  made,  that  no  family  can  be  supported  by 
authorship  in  a  country  where  piracy  on  foreign  authors 
is  permitted.  American  authors  who  have  neither 
inherited  nor  married  wealth  have  invariably  been 
compelled  to  sell  their  main  time  and  strength  to 
colleges,  professions,  journals,  magazines,  or  offices,  or 
perhaps  to  reside  abroad.  In  no  case  has  literature, 


HA  WTHORNE.  77 

pure  and  simple,  ever  supported  an  American  author, 
unless,  possibly,  if  he  were  a  bachelor.  As  a  bachelor 
Hawthorne  had  found  his  slender  income  sufficient,  but 
with  the  prospect  of  a  family  came  the  necessity  for  an 
occupation  other  than  literature.  "  I  can  turn  my  pen 
to  all  sorts  of  drudgery,"  he  writes  to  Longfellow,  "such  as 
children's  books,  &c.,  and  by  and  by  I  shall  get  some 
editorship  that  will  answer  my  purpose.  Frank  Pierce, 
who  was  with  us  at  college,  offered  me  his  influence  to 
obtain  an  office  in  the  Exploring  Expedition;  but  I  believe 
that  he  was  mistaken  in  supposing  that  a  vacancy  existed. 
If  such  a  post  were  attainable,  I  should  certainly  accept 
it ;  for,  though  fixed  so  long  to  one  spot,  I  have  always 
had  a  desire  to  run  round  the  world." 

Soon  after  this — in  the  summer  of  1837 — Hawthorne 
went  on  the  happy  excursion  in  Maine,  described  in  his 
"American  Note  Books."  There  he  was  with  his  friend, 
Horatio  Bridge,  whose  generous  guarantee  had  alone 
induced  the  publisher  to  issue  "  Twice-told  Tales,"  and 
there  he  met  his  college  friend,  Cilley.  It  was  soon 
after  that  this  Congressman  was  engaged  in  preparing 
an  application  for  the  appointment  of  Hawthorne  to  a 
lucrative  office,  when  he  fell  in  a  duel,  as  already  related. 

George  Bancroft,  under  the  normal  necessity  of 
authors,  had  obtained  the  Boston  Custom  House,  and 
he  appointed  Hawthorne  to  be  weigher  and  gauger,  at  a 
salary  of  ,£240.  Hawthorne  entered  on  his  duties  early 
in  January,  1839.  Unpleasant  as  it  is  to  reflect  on  the 
situation  now,  the  circumstances  made  this  a  happier 
position  for  Hawthorne  than  any  which  had  impawned 
his  pen.  Not  only  did  the  appointment  save  him  from 


78  LIFE  OF 

further  brooding  over  his  friend's  death  with  a  feel- 
ing of  participating  in  the  guilt  of  it,  but  from  a  bitter 
consciousness  that  he  was  missing  the  real  world.  "  I 
have,"  he  had  written  to  Longfellow,  "  great  difficulty  in 
the  lack  of  materials;  for  I  have  seen  so  little  of  the 
world  that  I  have  nothing  but  thin  air  to  concoct  my 
stories  of,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  give  a  little  semblance  to 
such  shadowy  stuff.  Sometimes  through  a  peep-hole  I 
have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  real  world,  and  the  two  or 
three  articles  in  which  I  have  portrayed  these  glimpses 
please  me  better  than  the  others."  But  now,  seven 
months  later  (January  12,  1839),  he  writes  to  the  same 
friend,  merrily,  but  with  much  meaning  in  his  mirth,  "  I 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  my  capacity  to  fulfil  the  duties ; 
for  I  don't  know  what  they  are.  They  tell  me  that  a 
considerable  portion  of  my  time  will  be  unoccupied,  the 
which  I  mean  to  employ  in  sketches  of  my  new  experi- 
ence, under  some  such  titles  as  follows :  '  Scenes  in 
Dock,'  'Voyages  at  Anchor,'  '  Nibblings  of  a  Wharf 
Rat,'  'Trials  of  a  Tide- Waiter,'  'Romance  of  the  Revenue 
Service,'  together  with  an  ethical  work  in  two  volumes, 
on  the  subject  of  Duties,  the  first  volume  to  treat  of 
moral  and  religious  duties,  and  the  second  of  duties 
imposed  by  the  Revenue  Laws,  which  I  begin  to  con- 
sider the  most  important  class." 

Twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  that  dependent 
on  the  aura  popularis  of  the  next  presidential  election, 
was  not  enough  to  marry  on.  But  he  came  in  contact 
with  real  life  ;  he  was  awake. 

Mr.  Lathrop  mentions  that  he  used  to  get  to  the 
wharf  at  the  earliest  possible  hour,  because  the  wages 


HA  WTHORNE.  79 

of  the  wharf  labourers  depended  on  their  number  of 
hours.  His  life  was  thus  severe,  but,  he  wrote,  "  mine  is 
a  healthy  weariness,  such  as  needs  only  a  night's  sleep 
to  remove  it.  From  henceforth  forever  I  shall  be 
entitled  to  call  the  sons  of  toil  my  brethren,  and  shall 
know  how  to  sympathize  with  them,  seeing  that  I  like- 
wise have  risen  with  the  dawn,  and  borne  the  fervour  of 
the  midday  sun,  nor  turned  my  heavy  footsteps  home- 
ward till  eventide.  Years  hence,  perhaps,  the  experience 
my  heart  is  acquiring  now  will  flow  out  in  truth  and 
wisdom." 

Madox  Brown  painted  a  fine  picture  of  Carlyle  and 
F.  D.  Maurice  standing  near  some  men  with  hods  at 
work  on  a  building  in  the  street.  Carlyle  breaks  into 
laughter  on  observing  some  ladies  daintily  holding  their 
skirts  from  the  rubbish;  Maurice  looks  sadly  on  the 
toilers.  Why  will  not  some  artist  paint  us  the  historian 
Bancroft  and  Hawthorne  beside  their  coal-heavers  on 
the  Boston  wharf?  So  far  as  Hawthorne  is  concerned, 
the  artist  need  only  peruse  the  pictures  unconsciously 
drawn  of  himself,  inserted  at  the  end  of  the  first  volume 
of  his  "American  Note  Books." 

"  I  have  been  measuring  coal  all  day,  on  board  of  a 
black  little  British  schooner,  in  a  dismal  dock  at  the 
north  end  of  the  city.  Most  of  the  time  I  paced  the 
deck  to  keep  myself  warm.  .  .  .  Sometimes  I  descended 
into  the  dirty  little  cabin  of  the  schooner,  and  warmed 
myself  by  a  red-hot  stove,  among  biscuit  barrels,  pots 
and  kettles,  sea-chests,  and  innumerable  lumber  of  all 
sorts— my  olfactories,  meanwhile,  being  greatly  refreshed 
by  the  odour  of  a  pipe,  which  the  captain  or  some  one  of 


80  LIFE  OF 

his  crew  was  smoking.  But  at  last  came  the  sunset, 
with  delicate  clouds,  and  a  purple  light  upon  the 
islands ;  and  I  blessed  it,  because  it  was  the  signal  of 
my  release." 

"  When  I  shall  be  free  again  I  will  enjoy  all  things 
with  the  fresh  simplicity  of  a  child  of  five  years  old. 
I  shall  grow  young  again,  made  all  over  anew.  I  will 
go  forth  and  stand  in  a  summer  shower,  and  all  the 
worldly  dust  that  has  collected  on  me  shall  be  washed 
away  at  once,  and  my  heart  will  be  like  a  bank  of  fresh 
flowers  for  the  weary  to  rest  upon." 

"  Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  am  free  from  a  load  of  coal 
which  has  been  pressing  upon  my  shoulders  throughout 
all  the  hot  weather.  I  am  convinced  that  Christian's 
burden  consisted  of  coal." 

"  Salt  is  white  and  pure — there  is  something  holy  in 
salt." 

"  I  have  observed  that  butterflies — very  broad-winged 
and  magnificent  butterflies — frequently  come  on  board 
of  the  salt-ship,  where  I  am  at  work.  What  have  these 
bright  strangers  to  do  on  Long  Wharf,  where  there  are 
no  flowers  nor  any  green  thing,  nothing  but  brick  store- 
houses, stone  piers,  and  the  bustle  of  toilsome  men, 
who  neither  look  up  to  the  blue  sky,  nor  take  note  of 
these  wandering  gems  of  the  air?  I  cannot  account  for 
them,  unless  they  are  the  lovely  fantasies  of  the  mind." 

«*  For  three  or  four  days  I  have  been  observing  a  little 
Mediterranean  boy  from  Malaga,  not  more  than  ten  or 
eleven  years  old,  but  who  is  already  a  citizen  of  the 
world,  and  seems  to  be  just  as  gay  and  contented  on  the 
deck  of  a  Yankee  coal-vessel  as  he  could  be  while 


HA  WTHORNE.  81 

playing  beside  his  mother's  door.  It  is  really  touching 
to  see  how  free  and  happy  he  is — how  the  little  fellow 
takes  the  whole  wide  world  for  his  home,  and  all  man- 
kind for  his  family.  He  talks  Spanish — at  least  that  is 
his  native  tongue ;  but  he  is  also  very  intelligible  in 
English,  and  perhaps  he  likewise  has  smatterings  of  the 
speech  of  other  countries,  whither  the  winds  may  have 
wafted  this  little  sea-bird.  He  is  a  Catholic ;  and  yester- 
day being  Friday  he  caught  some  fish  and  fried  them 
for  his  dinner  in  sweet  oil,  and  really  they  looked  so 
delicate  that  I  almost  wished  he  would  invite  me  to 
partake.  Every  once  in  a  while  he  undresses  himself 
and  leaps  overboard,  plunging  down  beneath  the  waves 
as  if  the  sea  were  as  native  to  him  as  the  earth.  Then 
he  runs  up  the  rigging  of  the  vessel  as  if  he  meant  to  fly 
away  through  the  air.  I  must  remember  this  little  boy, 
and  perhaps  I  may  make  something  more  beautiful  of 
him  than  these  rough  and  imperfect  touches  would 
promise." 

"  I  pray  that  in  one  year  more  I  may  find  some  way  of 
escaping  from  this  unblest  Custom  House;  for  it  is 
a  very  grievous  thraldom.  I  do  detest  all  offices — all 
at  least  that  are  held  on  a  political  tenure.  And  I  want 
nothing  to  do  with  politicians.  Their  hearts  wither 
away,  and  die  out  of  their  bodies.  Their  consciences 
are  turned  to  india-rubber,  or  to  some  substance  as 
black  as  that,  and  which  will  stretch  as  much.  One 
thing,  if  no  more,  I  have  gained  by  my  Custom  House 
experience — to  know  a  politician." 

The  prayer  in  this  last  paragraph  was  precisely 
answered  :  the  Van  Buren  administration  was  succeeded 

6 


82  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

by  that  of  Harrison,  and  short  shrift  was  made  of 
Bancroft  and  Hawthorne.  When  Hawthorne  was 
entering  office  he  was  afflicted  on  meeting  the 
ejected  face  of  the  man  he  had  supplanted,  and  re- 
corded his  protest  against  "rotation  in  office";  but 
Hawthorne's  successor  saw  no  sadness  in  his  face.  The 
Custom  House  was  needed,  no  doubt,  when  his  genius 
was  pale ;  it  was  a  two  years'  course,  as  it  were,  of  cod- 
liver  oil,  and  he  had  got  whatever  picturesqueness  there 
was  in  the  bottles.  But  he  was  robust  now,  and  the 
nasty  stuff  was  disguised  by  no  sense  of  benefit.  So  he 
ran  out  like  a  happy  child  into  the  summer  shower,  the 
customs  dust  was  washed  away,  and  his  heart  was  a  bank 
of  fresh  flowers. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FOR  his  two  years'  hard  work  in  the  Boston  Custom 
House,  Hawthorne  received  twenty-four  hundred 
dollars.  When  he  left  it  he  had  saved  one  thousand. 
He  had  also  the  nearly  completed  manuscript  of  "Grand- 
father's Chair," — stories  for  children  clustered  around 
a  chair  given  by  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  to  his  daughter, 
Lady  Arabella  Johnson,  and  purporting  to  have  passed 
in  succession  to  a  number  of  persons  figuring  in  colonial 
history — Roger  Williams,  Anne  Hutchinson,  Sir  Harry 
Vane,  and  others.  At  this  time  Miss  Elizabeth  Peabody 
had  set  up  in  Boston  her  famous  West  Street  establish- 
ment, where  the  Dial  was  published,  and  various 
books  of  the  new  transcendental  age.  She  brought 
out  "Grandfather's  Chair,"  and  it  was  also  published 
by  Wiley  and  Putnam  in  New  York.  Meanwhile 
"  Twice-told  Tales "  (first  series)  had  been  nearly 
four  years  before  the  public,  but,  despite  the  good 
reviews  by  Longfellow  and  others,  the  publishers 
(Munroe  and  Co.)  now  reported  that  the  sales  had 
not  covered  expenses. 

The  alternatives   seemed   now  a  surrender  to  Giant 
Despair  or  to  Giant  Transcendentalism. 


84  LIFE  OF 

Carlyle  had  spoken  to  the  youth  of  America  with 
a  thunder  which  "  deprived  them  of  sleep  " ;  but  to 
these  sleepless  ones  Emerson  brought  sweetest  dreams. 
Unhappily,  it  is  the  way  of  day-dreams  to  unfit  the 
dreamers  for  the  prosaic  world  with  its  light  of  common 
day.  The  Peabodys,  including  Hawthorne's  Sophia, 
were  Emersonian  enthusiasts,  and  probably  it  was 
largely  through  their  influence  that  the  way-worn  pilgrim 
— finding  the  old  world  a  mere  city  of  Destruction  for 
a  man  without  trade,  profession,  or  means — sought  a 
new  world  through  the  portals  of  Brook  Farm  com- 
munity. Those  who  have  imagined  the  nature  of 
Hawthorne  to  be  unsocial  may  wonder  at  his  member- 
ship of  a  socialistic  fraternity.  But  those  who  knew  the 
man  well  recognised  in  him  a  desire  for  such  fellowship 
as  would  leave  undisturbed  the  inner  sanctuary  where 
his  heart  and  intellect  sat  at  their  sacred  task.1  This 

1  One  who  knew  him  well,  Dr.  George  B.  Loring  of  Salem — now 
(1890)  United  States  Minister  in  Portugal — says,  in  a  letter  I  have 
from  him,  that  Hawthorne  had  a  two-fold  existence — a  real  and 
a  supernatural.  "He  was  fond  of  the  companionship  of  all  who 
were  in  sympathy  with  the  real  and  human  side  of  life."  But  "it 
was  the  supernatural  element  in  Hawthorne  which  gave  him  his 
high  distinction.  When  he  entered  upon  his  work  as  a  writer  he 
left  this  personality  entirely  behind  him.  In  this  work  he  allowed 
no  interference,  he  asked  for  no  aid.  He  was  shy  of  those  whose 
intellectual  power  and  literary  fame  might  seem  to  give  them  a  right 
to  enter  his  sanctuary,  The  working  of  his  mind  was  so  sacrec1  and 
mysterious  to  him,  that  he  was  impatient  of  any  attempt  at  fami- 
liarity, or  even  intimacy  with  the  divine  power  within  him. 
Hawthorne  said  of  himself  that  his  work  grew  in  his  brain  as  it 
went  on,  and  was  beyond  his  control  or  direction — for  nature  was 
his  guide.  Theodore  Parker  once  said  to  me  he  had  no  idea^  that 
Hawthorne  understood  his  own  genius  or  comprehended  the  philo- 


HA  WTHORNE.  85 

was  just  what  Brook  Farm  promised.  There  was  to  be 
an  unconventional  society  of  men  and  women,  sick  as 
himself  of  politics,  and  unfit  for  the  meanness  of  barter ; 
the  supply  of  food  and  raiment  was  to  be  reduced  to 
a  minimum  of  cost  by  co-operation  and  communal  life 
on  that  lower  plane ;  and  the  result  was  to  be  a  release 
of  much  time  for  each,  and  security  for  the  solitude 
demanded  for  the  individual  genius.  The  sage  Mani 
said,  "  The  populousness  of  my  body  is  the  solitude  of 
my  soul."  Brook  Farm  was  to  be  as  the  social  body ; 
its  perfected  organization  of  many  functions  was  to  free 
from  the  curse  of  multifarious  toil  the  thinker  of  slender 
means.  Had  Hawthorne  earlier  met  Emerson  himself 
he  might  not  have  ventured  his  all  in  this  dream.  For 
Emerson,  from  his  retreat  at  Concord,  where  society  and 
solitude  so  happily  harmonised,  saw  the  whole  Brook 
Farm  incident  as  a  transcendental  pic-nic.  But  with 
"  The  Blithedale  Romance  "  in  his  hand,  no  reader  can 
lament  that  Hawthorne  sowed  his  last  thousand  dollars 
for  a  harvest  so  rich. 

Not  long  ago  I  took  the  railway  which  now  goes  within 
three  miles  of  that  Land  of  Beulah.  The  Yankee  driver 
I  found  at  the  station  could  remember  no  previous 
pilgrim  to  Brook  Farm,  and  had  never  heard  that  any 
important  people  had  dwelt  there.  I  paused  at  a  house 
which  I  had  managed  to  identify  as  the  House  of  the 
sophical  meaning  of  many  of  the  circumstances  or  characters  found 
in  his  books ;  that  his  characters  were  true  to  nature  in  spite  of 
himself.  And  so  in  great  loneliness  he  toiled,  conscious  that  no 
human  power  could  guide  him,  and  that  human  sympathy  was  of 
no  avail.  The  sacredness  of  his  genius  was  to  him  like  the  sacred- 
ness  of  his  love." 


86  LIFE  OF 

Interpreter — there  Margaret  Fuller  held  her  "  Conversa- 
tions " — but  it  seemed  dismal  and  deserted.  Farther 
on  was  the  large  building  which  the  dreamers  called  the 
The  Hive.  There  the  common  table  was  spread.  It  is 
now  a  German  Lutheran  orphanage,  its  wall  decorated 
with  Scripture  texts.  The  poorly  clad  children  were 
playing  merrily  in  the  ill-kept  "  yard,"  and  I  presently 
saw  them  enjoying  their  homely  fare  in  the  room  where 
once  sat  men  and  women  who  have  given  shining  names 
to  literature.  They  were  summoned  by  the  same  bell, 
which  still  sounds  from  the  old  cupola.  The  good 
German  matron  had  never  heard  of  any  one  of  those 
notable  people,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  previous  history 
of  the  place.  It  was  too  disenchanting  to  try  and 
identify  the  dilapidated  frame  cabins  here  and  there  with 
places  that  bore  the  poetical  names  of  The  Pilgrim  House, 
The  Eyrie,  The  Nest,  The  Cottage.  It  was  pleasanter 
to  ramble  through  the  large  forest,  carpeted  with  sun- 
glints  and  wild  flowers,  where  passed  the  wondrous 
masquerades  so  finely  described  by  Hawthorne.  Alas, 
of  all  those  scenes  the  sole  relique  is  a  long  half-decayed 
table,  with  benches  around  on  which  one  dare  not  sit. 
The  neighbouring  streamlet  ran  on  as  in  the  days  when 
in  this  Xanadu  the  visionaries,  under  pleasure-dome  of 
the  sky,  fed  on  honey-dew  and  milk  of  Paradise,  some- 
times drawn  from  the  udder  by  Hawthorne's  own 
fingers  !  But  through  what  fathomless  caverns  has  passed 
the  sacred  stream  that  once  flowed  here  !  Brownson 
became  a  great  Roman  Catholic  champion  ;  Charles 
Dana  founded  the  New  York  Sim,  which  has  given 
him  wealth  and  influence ;  George  Ripley  had  a  success- 


HAWTHORNE.  87 

ful  career  on  the  New  York  Tribune ;  George  Curtis  is 
now  an  honoured  editor  and  orator — and  he  has  never 
forgotten  the  dreams  of  his  youth. 

It  was  significant  now  to  read  the  texts  on  the  walls  of 
The  Hive.  Of  the  many  communities  which  in  those 
years  sprang  up  in  America,  only  those  survive  which 
were  based  on  some  religious  enthusiasm — Moravian, 
Shaker,  Mormon.  The  Brook  Farmers  were  mainly 
philosophical  idealists,  for  the  most  part  freethinkers, 
who  believed  that  nature  would  cherish  the  ideals  they 
had  projected  into  nature.  But  Boston  removed  no- 
farther  from  the  Arctic  Circle ;  New  England  granite 
remained  granite  ;  the  butcher  and  baker  still  demanded 
vulgar  coin  for  their  products.  Hawthorne  did  not 
become  a  financier  by  being  made  chairman  of  the 
Finance  Committee.  This  pretty  flower  could  not  be 
acclimatised  in  New  England,  if  indeed  on  earth ;  it  soon 
burst,  and  its  winged  seeds  floated  through  the  world,, 
took  root,  and  bore  each  its  several  flower — on  all,  how- 
ever, some  tint  of  that  planted  with  such  faith  and  hope 
at  Brook  Farm. 

Hawthorne,  suo  more,  formed  his  friendships  chiefly 
with  those  of  the  community  without  special  relation 
to  literature,  but  with  heart  and  culture.  George 
Bradford,  his  old  friend — beloved  of  all  best  men ; 
Frank  Farley,  a  Western  pioneer,  of  precarious  sanity ; 
Rev.  Warren  Burton,  who  wrote  a  book  on  landscape 
art — are  mentioned  by  Mr.  Lathrop  as  Hawthorne's 
particular  associates  at  Brook  Farm. 

Hawthorne  arrived  at  Brook  Farm,  April  12,  1841,, 
in  a  snowstorm.  On  the  next  day  he  writes  to  Sophia 


«8  LIFE  OF 

Peabody  :  "  Here  I  am  in  a  polar  Paradise !  I  know 
not  how  to  interpret  this  aspect  of  nature — whether  it 
be  of  good  or  evil  omen  to  our  enterprise.  But  I  reflect 
that  the  Plymouth  Pilgrims  arrived  in  the  midst  of 
storm.  ...  I  laud  my  stars,  however,  that  you  will  not 
have  your  first  impressions  of  (perhaps)  our  future  home 
from  such  a  day  as  this." 

On  May  the  3rd,  he  writes  to  his  sister  Louisa  a 
letter,  printed  by  his  son,  Julian  : 

Mr.  Ripley  summoned  us  into  the  cow-yard,  and  introduced  me 
to  an  instrument  with  four  prongs,  commonly  entitled  a  dung-fork. 
With  this  tool  I  have  already  assisted  to  load  twenty  or  thirty  carts 
•of  manure,  and  shall  take  part  in  loading  three  hundred  more. 
Besides,  I  have  planted  potatoes  and  pease,  cut  straw  and  hay  for 
the  cattle,  and  done  various  other  mighty  works.  This  very  morning 
I  milked  three  cows,  and  I  milk  two  or  three  every  night  and 
morning.  The  weather  has  been  so  unfavourable  that  we  have 
worked  comparatively  little  in  the  fields ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  have 
gained  strength  wonderfully — grown  quite  a  giant,  in  fact — and  can 
do  a  day's  work  without  the  slightest  inconvenience.  In  short,  I  am 
transformed  into  a  complete  farmer. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  places  I  ever  saw  in  my  life, 
and  as  secluded  as  if  it  were  a  hundred  miles  from  any  city  or 
village.  There  are  woods,  in  which  we  can  ramble  all  day  without 
meeting  anybody  or  scarcely  seeing  a  house.  Our  house  stands 
apart  from  the  main  road,  so  that  we  are  not  troubled  even  with 
passengers  looking  at  us.  Once  in  a  while  we  have  a  transcendental 
visitor,  such  as  Mr.  Alcott ;  but  generally  we  pass  whole  days  with- 
out seeing  a  single  face  save  those  of  the  brethren.  The  whole 
fraternity  eat  together  ;  and  such  a  delectable  way  of  life  has  never 
been  seen  on  earth  since  the  days  of  the  early  Christians. 

"  The  thin  frock  which  you  made  for  me  is  considered  a  most 
splendid  article,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  were  to  become  the 
summer  uniform  of  the  community.  I  have  a  thick  frock  likewise ; 
but  it  is  rather  deficient  in  grace,  though  extremely  warm  and  com- 


HA  WTHORNE.  89 

fortable.     I  wear  a  tremendous  pair  of  cow-hide  boots,  with  soles 

two  inches  thick — of  course,  when  I  come  to  see  you  I  shall  wear 
my  farmer's  dress." 


This  letter  is  signed,  "  Nath.  Hawthorne,  Ploughman:' 
There  is  a  tone  about  it,  as  if  the  writer  felt  himself  to 
be  playing  at  work,  but  he  was  not  conscious  of  it.  He 
declares  that  he  looked  forward  to  so  passing  years,  if 
not  a  lifetime,  and  in  the  spring  of  1842  looked  about 
for  the  site  of  a  house  which  he  hoped  to  build  for  his 
bride.  But  one  day,  when  he  was  hoeing  his  potatoes, 
there  rose  in  him  an  overpowering  conviction  that  he 
was  out  of  his  own  place,  and  in  somebody  else's  place. 
So  he  vanished.  He  left  on  good  terms  with  all,  asked 
back  nothing  that  he  had  invested,  and,  at  thirty-eight, 
began  life  again — his  means  at  lowest  ebb. 

Hawthorne  remained  in  the  community  about  a  year. 
But  before  he  left  he  had  made  a  discovery  that  he  had 
never  been  really  there  at  all.  "  The  real  Me  was  never 
an  associate  of  the  community  ;  there  has  been  a  spectral 
Appearance  there,  sounding  the  horn  at  daybreak,  and 
milking  the  cows,  and  hoeing  potatoes,  and  raking  hay, 
toiling  in  the  sun,  and  doing  me  the  honour  to  assume 
my  name.  But  this  spectre  was  not  myself."  But  the 
great  eye  of  Hawthorne  was  there,  and  every  scene  was 
pictured  on  it.  It  was  the  sufficient  raison  d'etre  of 
Brook  Farm  that  it  produced  that  truly  American  novel 
— "The  Blithedale  Romance."  The  other  principa 
works  of  Hawthorne  relate  to  imported  customs  and 
characters — the  most  American  among  them,  perhaps, 
being  that  which  is  mounted  amid  the  scenery  of  Rome. 


90  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

But  "The  Blithedale  Romance"  is  a  genuine  transcript 
of  original  New  World  life.  Rollings  worth,  Zenobia, 
Priscilla,  Coverdale,  still  survive.  The  locality  was 
trampled  out  of  shape  when  it  was  made  into  Camp 
Andrew  in  1861,  but  the  Utopia  has  not  passed  away. 
There  is  a  bit  of  Brook  Farm  in  Ho  wells,  in  Edward 
Bellamy,  in  all  the  younger  generation  of  writers,  who 
talk  the  same  dream  as  if  it  had  never  perished,  nor 
its  beautiful  monument  been  built  by  the  art  of  Haw- 
thorne. 

Hawthorne  and  Sophia  Peabody  had  grown  old  enough 
and  wise  enough  to  discover  the  secret  of  the  only 
paradise  which  the  world  admits — to  love  and  be 
beloved,  to  dwell  in  the  neighbourhood  of  best  heads 
and  hearts,  to  follow  one's  own  genius.  So  they  repaired 
to  Concord,  and  there  married — resolving  that  if  they 
must  be  poor  they  would  be  poor  together,  and  at  least 
rich  in  mutual  love  and  high  thinking. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE  and  Sophia  Pea- 
body  were  married  on  July  9,  1842.  He  was  in 
his  thirty-ninth,  she  in  her  thirty-second,  year,  but  no 
pair  in  their  teens  were  ever  more  rapt  in  love's  young 
dream.  II  faut  passer  la  jeunesse,  and  hitherto  neither 
of  them  had  really  known  the  meaning  of  youth.  Pro- 
bably neither  of  them  had  ever  attended  a  dance,  or 
knew  how  to  dance.  Outside  of  their  families,  the 
author  appears  to  have  never  known  any  lady  except 
the  one  he  asked  to  become  his  wife,  and  it  is  probable 
that  she  was  much  in  the  same  case  as  regards  the  male 
sex.  They  thus  represented  to  each  other  their  respec- 
tive divisions  of  the  human  race,  and  Hawthorne  appro- 
priately described  his  wife  and  himself  as  Adam  and 
Eve.  They  secured  the  lease  of  a  fair  enough  paradise 
— the  Old  Manse.  It  was  as  picturesque  as  her  pencil 
could  desire,  and  haunted  by  precisely  the  romantic- 
historic  legends  and  figures  in  which  his  pen  delighted. 

Fortunately,  too,  it  did  not  cost  much  ;  for  they  were 
beginning  married  life  on  slender  expectations,  and  even 
these  soon  failed  them.  The  Democratic  Review,  pub- 
lished at  Washington,  had  engaged  him  to  write  regular 


92  LIFE  OF 

contributions,  and  began  paying  fairly;  but  it  soon 
collapsed.  The  literary  horizon  contracted  to  a  more 
substantial  vegetable  garden.  It  was  the  great  era  of 
book  piracy.  Tom  Appleton,  a  well-known  wit,  used  to 
call  Hawthorne  a  "  boned  pirate,"  but  he  could  not  have 
so  described  the  publisher  of  that  period.  He  was  a 
thoroughly  organized  pirate.  "  I  continue,"  writes  Haw- 
thorne to  a  friend,  "  to  scribble  tales  with  good  success 
so  far  as  regards  empty  praise,  some  notes  of  which, 
pleasant  enough  to  my  ears,  have  come  from  across  the 
Atlantic.  But  the  pamphlet  and  piratical  system  has 
so  far  broken  up  all  regular  literature,  that  I  am  forced 
to  work  hard  for  small  gains."  The  allusion  was  to  the 
recognition  his  tales  had  received  from  Henry  Chorley, 
in  the  Athenceum.  But  American  literary  men  were  no 
whit  behind  those  of  England  in  such  recognition. 
Poe's  first  growls  at  the  rival  story-teller  had  ended  in 
praise.  Longfellow  and  Hillard  filled  the  air  with  his 
merits,  and  were  always  contriving  how  they  might  bring 
on  Hawthorne  some  golden  shower  from  the  firmament 
of  brass. 

And  here  may  be  mentioned  an  incident  which  added 
:gratitude  to  the  friendship  of  Longfellow.  Hawthorne 
had  got  hold  of  a  romantic  incident  of  French  Canada, 
which  he  intended  to  weave  into  a  tale.  He  happened, 
however,  to  tell  the  substance  of  it  to  an  acquaintance 
named  Conolly,  who  told  it  to  Longfellow.  It  presently 
appeared  as  Longfellow's  "Evangeline."  Hawthorne, 
without  any  hint  of  his  loss,  wrote  a  fine  review  of  the 
poem,  saying  of  Longfellow :  "By  this  work  of  his 
maturity  he  has  placed  himself  on  a  higher  eminence 


HA  WTHORNE.  93 

than  he  had  yet  attained,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  envy. 
Let  him  stand,  then,  at  the  head  of  our  list  of  native 
poets,  until  some  one  else  shall  break  up  the  rude  soil 
of  our  American  life,  as  he  has  done,  and  produce  from 
it  a  lovelier  and  nobler  flower  than  this  poem  of  Evan- 
geline."     Longfellow,  it  would  appear,  had  understood 
from  Conolly  that  the  tale  was  sent  him  by  Hawthorner 
for  he  wrote  :  "  Perhaps  I  can  pay  you  back  in  part  your 
own  generous  gift,  by  giving  you  a  theme  for  story,  in 
return  for  a  theme  for  song.     It  is  neither  more  nor  less 
than  the  history  of  the  Acadians,  after  their  expulsion 
as  well  as  before.     Felton  has  been  making  some  re- 
searches in  the  State  archives,  and  offers  to  resign  the 
documents  into  your  hands.     Pray  come  and  see  me 
about  it  without  delay.     Come  so  as  to  pass  a  night  with 
us,   if  possible,   this   week ;   if  not   a   day  and   night." 
From  what  I  have  heard,  on  good  authority,  Hawthorne 
meant  to  use  the  story  himself,  though  Longfellow  never 
knew  the  full  magnanimity  of  the  review  above  quoted. 
Conolly  having  afterwards  asked  some  favour  of  Haw- 
thorne, the  latter  replied,   "  I  will   do  it,  and  thereby 
prove  myself  the   most   Christian  man  in  the  world." 
There  is,  however,  another  version  of  the  story  in  Fields' 
"  Yesterdays,"  according  to  which  Longfellow  asked  Haw- 
thorne if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  use  the  story. 
Hawthorne  was  not  inclined  to  undertake  the  Acadians. 
His   "Note   Books"  show  that   his   inner   garden  was 
already   over-thick    with   blossoms   which    could   never 
mature    fruits    in    the    chill    ("piratical")    atmosphere 
under    which    American    literature  was   suffering — still 
suffers,  albeit  with  mitigations. 


94  LIFE  OF 

But  we  return  now  to  the  roses  that  bloomed  around 
the  Old  Manse,  and  the  "  mosses "  that  grew  on  it. 
This  ancient  homestead  stands  beside  an  invisible  stream 
of  history.  Generations  of  ministers  had  dwelt  there, 
leading  the  village  from  Puritanism  to  liberalism.  Under 
its  windows  occurred  the  first  resistance  to  English  troops 
in  the  Revolution,  witnessed  by  Emerson's  grandfather, 
who  resided  there — nay,  his  father  used  to  claim  that  he 
was  "in  arms"  that  day  (being  then  an  infant).  There 
Emerson  wrote  his  first  book,  "  Nature,"  which  began  a 
revolution  equal  in  importance  to  that  which  set  there 
the  monument  dedicated  by  his  famous  hymn  to  the 
farmers,  who  here  "  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the 
world."  But  the  Old  Manse  is  beside  the  visible 
Concord  River — a  gentle  stream,  with  islets,  adorned 
with  lilies  in  summer  and  rosettes  of  the  hoar-frost  in 
winter;  blithe,  too,  with  pleasure-boats  at  one  time,  and 
troops  of  skaters  at  another.  As  for  the  house  itself, 
though  the  present  writer  has  been  familiar  with  it  for 
thirty-five  years,  he  could  never  examine  it  closely. 
Walking  down  the  long  avenue  of  balm-of-Gilead  trees 
he  could  see  only  the  figures  of  scholars,  of  gracious 
ladies  who  dwelt  there  in  the  past,  and,  on  entering,  the 
beautiful  widow  Ripley  and  her  daughters,  who  made 
it  the  home  of  finest  hospitality,  intellectual  and  social. 

It  was  an  ideal  home  for  the  Hawthornes.  Had  the 
owners  foreseen  the  value  to  be  added  to  it  as  an  estate 
by  his  "  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse,"  they  might  well 
have  paid  him  to  reside  there.  As  it  was,  his  severest 
sufferings  from  poverty  were  there  endured.  However, 
he  and  his  wife  had  health  and  love  for  their  guests,  and 


HA  WTHORNE.  95 

were  willing  to  spare  others,  and  for  a  long  time  fairly 
checkmated  surly  fate.  Hawthorne  turned  poverty  into 
a  jest.  The  arm  of  a  chair  comes  off  as  he  touches  it, 
and  he  throws  his  wife  into  fits  of  laughter  by  saying 
majestically,  "  I  will  flee  my  country."  His  dressing- 
gown  has  an  appalling  vacuum,  and  he  remarks  on  the 
strangeness  that,  being  "  a  man  of  the  largest  rents  in 
the  country,"  he  has  not  more  ready  money.  "  On 
Christmas  Day  we  had  a  truly  paradisaical  dinner  of 
preserved  quince  and  apple,  dates,  and  bread  and 
cheese,  and  milk." 

Hawthorne  was  never  more  careful  about  his  affairs 
than  now,  in  his  "  Eden,"  as  he  called  it.  "  I  wish,"  he 
writes  to  his  friend  Hillard  (in  a  letter  of  November  26, 
1843,  printed  in  the  Athenczum,  August  10,  1889),  "I 
wish  at  some  leisure  moment  you  would  give  yourself 
the  trouble  to  call  into  Munroe's  bookstore  and  inquire 
about  the  state  of  my  '  Twice-told  Tales.'  At  the  last 
accounts  (now  about  a  year  since)  the  sales  had  not 
been  enough  to  pay  the  expenses ;  but  it  may  be  other- 
wise now — else  I  shall  be  forced  to  consider  myself  a 
writer  for  posterity  ;  or  at  all  events  not  for  the  present 
generation.  Surely  the  book  was  puffed  enough  to 
meet  with  a  sale.  What  the  devil's  the  matter?  We 
are  very  well  here,  and,  as  usual,  preposterously  happy." 

Even  amid  poverty  the  "  New  Adam  and  Eve  "  de- 
clined to  receive  a  boarder,  however  congenial.  Margaret 
Fuller's  sister  had  just  married  Ellery  Channing,  the  poet, 
and  it  was  suggested  that  they  should  live  at  the  Old 
Manse.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  rather  favoured  the  plan,  but 
Hawthorne  wrote  to  "  Dear  Margaret," — "  Had  it  been 


96  LIFE  OF 

proposed  to  Adam  and  Eve  to  receive  two  angels  into 
their  paradise,  as  boarders,  I  doubt  whether  they  would 
have  been  pleased  to  consent."  He  admits  that  he  had 
proposed  to  receive  George  Bradford  "  In  doing  so  I 
was  influenced  less  by  what  Mr.  Bradford  is,  than  by 
what  he  is  not ;  or  rather  his  negative  qualities  seem  to 
take  away  his  personality,  and  leave  his  excellent  charac- 
teristics to  be  fully  and  fearlessly  enjoyed.  I  doubt 
whether  he  be  not  precisely  the  rarest  man  in  the 
world."  One  meaning  of  which  was  that  Hawthorne 
was  shy  of  literary  men,  such  as  Ellery  Charming,  but 
desired  the  companionship  of  men  of  culture  and 
character  who  were  not  authors.  But  he  had  "  mis- 
givings "  as  to  undertaking  such  responsibility  even  for 
Bradford — his  friend  both  at  Salem  and  Brook  Farm — 
and  I  believe  no  arrangement  of  the  kind  was  reached. 

But  Hawthorne's  shyness  of  literary  men  wore  off 
among  such  as  he  found  at  Concord.  He  enjoyed  the 
companionship  of  Ellery  Channing  —  who,  Emerson 
said,  wrote  "  poetry  for  poets,"  and  who  has  put  Haw- 
thorne into  several  of  them.  He  became  much  attached 
to  Thoreau,  who  used  to  take  him  out  in  his  boat,  the 
"  Pond  Lily."  He  enjoyed  talks  with  Margaret  Fuller, 
who  passed  much  of  her  time  at  Concord;  and  with 
Miss  Elizabeth  Hoar,  who  had  the  qualities  he  ascribed 
to  George  Bradford,  being  at  the  same  time  not  an 
author.  Mr.  Keyes,  an  eminent  citizen  of  Concord, 
told  me  that  he  found  Hawthorne  good  company.  "  I 
enjoyed  his  'Twice-told  Tales,'  and  remember  reading 
them  in  the  Old  Manse  in  1841,  to  Dr.  Ripley,  then 
aged  ninety-one.  But  Hawthorne  had  to  be  captured. 


HAWTHORNE.  97 

I  used  to  capture  him  now  and  then,  and  he  was- 
pleasant  enough."  Mrs.  Keyes  was  a  friend  of  the 
Hawthornes,  but  when,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  she  was; 
introduced  to  Hawthorne  at  the  Manse,  she  was 
frightened,  and  glad  to  get  off.  She  remembers  being, 
there  one  day  when  Hawthorne  returned  from  a  journey. 
When  Mrs.  Hawthorne  saw  him  coming  down  the 
avenue,  she  said  to  her  friend,  "  Oh,  do  go !  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world  have  anybody  see  me  meet  my 
husband." 

But  what  of  Emerson  ? 

Could  Michel  Angelo  have  reappeared,  in  the  Concord 
of  those  days,  he  might  have  found  in  its  two  great 
authors  models  for  a  new  Morn  and  Twilight.  Haw- 
thorne's portrait  of  Emerson,  and  his  environment  of 
pilgrims  ("  Mosses  ")  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  things 
he  ever  wrote.  "  For  myself  there  had  been  epochs  of 
my  life  when  I,  too,  might  have  asked  of  this  prophet 
the  master-word  that  should  solve  me  the  riddle  of  the 
universe.  But  now,  being  happy,  I  felt  as  if  there  were 
no  question  to  be  put,  and  therefore  admired  Emerson 
as  a  poet  of  deep  beauty  and  austere  tenderness,  but 
sought  nothing  from  him  as  a  philosopher.  It  was  good, 
nevertheless,  to  meet  him  in  the  wood-paths,  or  some- 
times in  our  avenue,  with  that  pure,  intellectual  gleam 
diffused  about  his  presence  like  the  garment  of  a  shining 
one ;  and  he  so  quiet,  so  simple,  so  without  pretension, 
encountering  each  man  alive  as  if  expecting  to  receive 
more  than  he  could  impart.  But  it  was  impossible  to- 
dwell  in  his  vicinity  without  inhaling,  more  or  less,  the 
mountain  atmosphere  of  his  lofty  thought,  which,  in  the 

7 


98  LIFE  OF 

brains  of  some  people,  wrought  a  singular  giddiness — 
new  truth  being  as  heady  as  new  wine." 

It  was  Emerson  who  inspired  the  finest  allegorical 
tale  ever  written — "The  Great  Stone  Face."  The  most 
impressive  natural  phenomenon  in  America  is  the 
stone  face  of  Profile  Mountain,  which  so  appeals  to 
the  imagination,  that  in  our  college  days  we  saw  it  as 
the  face  of  Carlyle,  and  it  still  rises  before  the  writer  of 
this  when  he  passes  the  pathetic  face  looking  across  the 
Thames  to  its  far  horizon.  With  poetic  felicity  Haw- 
thorne represents  the  boy  Ernest,  awaiting  fulfilment  of 
the  prophecy  that  a  great  man  should  come,  who  would 
be  known  by  his  resemblance  to  the  stone  face.  The 
people  recognize  him  in  the  millionaire,  Mr.  Gathergold, 
then  in  the  victorious  "Old  Blood-and-Thunder"  [General 
Jackson],  and  in  Old  Stony  Phiz  [Daniel  Webster]  ;  but 
Ernest  cannot  recognize  in  either  the  countenance  on 
the  mountain.  And  when  at  last  all  others  recognize 
the  coming  one  in  Ernest  himself,  his  eyes  are  still  look- 
ing for  one  worthier  of  the  Great  Stone  Face. 

Emerson,  on  his  part,  was  the  personal  friend  of 
Hawthorne,  and  recognized  his  power;  but  he  could 
not  enjoy  his  writings.  There  was  not  enough  sun- 
shine in  them  for  so  devout  an  optimist.  Himself 
brought  up  among  liberal  people, — his  youth  passed  at 
the  feet  of  Channing — he  knew  little  of  the  Puritan 
nightmare  that  haunted  every  pillow  in  the  Salem  of 
Hawthorne's  boyhood.  The  tales  of  secret  sin,  of 
veiled  wrong,  of  inherited  dooms,  were  to  him  too 
pathological.  "  He  holds  a  dark  steed  hard  " — so  he 
said  of  Hawthorne.  He  told  me  that  he  thought  Haw- 


HA  WTHORNE,  99 

thorne's  "  Recollections  of  a  gifted  Woman  "  (in  "  Our 
Old  Home"),  the  best  thing  he  ever  wrote.  This  did 
not  prevent  a  cordial  relation  between  the  two  men. 
But  probably  Emerson  was  troubled  at  the  failure  of  his 
efforts  to  bring  Hawthorne  into  an  equally  friendly  rela- 
tion with  others.  It  was  his  custom  to  receive  his  friends 
on  Sunday  evenings,  but  on  such  occasions  Hawthorne 
was  apt  to  sit  apart,  taciturn  and  "unclubbable."  He 
thought  there  seemed  to  be  something  "feminine"  about 
the  mind  of  this  robust  and  grand  man,  who  was  so 
inexplicably  shy.  Emerson,  furthermore,  had  never 
known  poverty,  and  probably  knew  not,  until  later,  the 
extent  to  which  Hawthorne's  life  was  overshadowed  by 
it.  Finally,  let  it  be  added,  Emerson  was  a  public 
teacher  who,  without  seeking  it,  had  been  burdened 
with  responsibility  by  the  young  who  looked  to  him 
for  guidance.  He  held  health — spiritual  and  physical — 
above  all  treasures,  and,  was  chary  of  speaking  with 
admiration  of  books  which  had  not  that  bloom  on 
them, — all  the  more  if  they  were  fascinating.  Emerson 
realized  perfectly  the  truth  of  what  Hawthorne  says  of 
the  "  giddiness "  caused  in  some  minds  by  his  new 
wine.  He  felt  deeply  some  of  the  tragical  results, 
such  as  that  suicide  of  Miss  Hunt  whose  body,  drawn 
by  Hawthorne  and  others  from  Concord  River,  is  de- 
scribed so  painfully  in  "The  Blithedale  Romance."  It 
was  generally  believed  that  this  maiden  had  found  an 
unendurable  discord  between  her  transcendental  ideals, 
and  her  condition  of  poverty.1  In  short,  Emerson  feared 

1  This,  however,  was  denied  by  her  cousins,  with  whom  the 
present  writer  boarded  for  a  summer,  and  one  of  whom  in  the  end 
drowned  herself  in  the  same  river  ! 


100  LIFE  OF 

everything  morbid,  everything  superstitious,  insomuch 
that  I  suspect  he  did  not  get  far  enough  in  Hawthorne's 
books  to  find  what  a  ruddy  heart  was  masquerading  in 
that  sombre  Salem  raiment. 

But  when  Emerson  came,  "with  a  sunbeam  in  his 
face,"  Hawthorne's  evening  star  turned  to  a  morning 
star.  The  two  men  walked  in  the  woods,  and  bathed 
in  Walden  Water,  and  bathed  in  the  beauty  of  nature. 
Together  they  mourned  over  the  uncelestial  railroad  to 
Boston,  begun  in  1843  (tne  Year  m  which  Hawthorne's 
"  Celestial  Railroad  "  appeared),  which,  says  Emerson  in 
a  letter,  u  may '  unseat  us  all,  and  drive  us  into  new- 
solitudes."  This  occurs  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  George 
Steams  Wheeler  (then,  April  30,  1843,  m  Rome)  com- 
municated to  The  Manchester  Guardian  (Dec.  3,  1889} 
by  Alexander  Ireland  : 

"Hawthorne,"  writes  Emerson  further,  "remains  in  his  seat, 
and  writes  very  actively  for  all  the  magazines.  .  .  .  Nature  is- 
resolved  to  make  a  stand  against  the  market,  which  has  grown  so 
usurping  and  omnipotent.  Everything  shall  not  go  to  market  ;  so 
she  makes  shy  men,  cloistered  maids,  and  angels  in  lone  places. 
Brook  Farm  is  an  experiment  of  another  kind,  where  a  hotbed 
culture  is  applied,  and  carried  to  its  extreme.  I  learn  from  all 
quarters  that  a  great  deal  of  action  and  courage  has  been  shown 
there,  and  my  friend  Hawthorne  almost  regrets  that  he  has  not 
remained  there,  to  see  the  unfolding  and  issue  of  so  much  bold  life. 
He  should  have  stayed  to  be  its  historian.  My  friend  Mr.  Brad- 
ford writes  me  from  Brook  Farm  that  he  has  formed  several  new 
friendships  with  old  friends,  such  new  grounds  of  character  have 
been  formed." 

On  March  3,  1844,  a  child  was  born  in  the  Old 
Manse — Una.  To  a  congratulation  from  his  friend 


HA  WTHORNE.  101 

Hillard  (author  of  "  Six  Months  in  Italy ")  Hawthorne 
replies  : 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  warm  congratulations  on  the 
advent  of  our  little  Una — a  name  which  I  wish  you  were  entirely 
pleased  with,  as  I  think  you  will  be  by  and  by.  Perhaps  the 
first  impression  may  not  be  altogether  agreeable  ;  for  the  name  has 
never  before  been  warmed  \vith  human  life,  and  therefore  may  not 
seem  appropriate  to  real  flesh  and  blood.  But  for  us,  our  child 
has  already  given  it  a  natural  warmth ;  and  when  she  has  worn  it 
through  her  lifetime,  and  perhaps  transmitted  it  to  descendants  of 
her  own,  the  beautiful  name  will  have  become  naturalized  on  earth  ; 
— whereby  we  shall  have  done  a  good  deed  in  bringing  it  out  of  the 
realm  of  Faery.  I  do  not  agree  with  you  that  poetry  ought  not  to 
be  brought  into  common  life.  If  flowers  of  Eden  can  be  made  to 
grow  among  my  cabbages  and  squashes,  it  will  please  me  so  much 
the  better  ;  those  excellent  vegetables  will  be  just  as  good  to  eat, 
and  the  flower  no  less  delightful  to  see  and  smell.  After  all,  I  like 
the  name,  not  so  much  from  any  association  with  Spenser's  heroine, 
as  for  its  simple  self — it  is  as  simple  as  a  name  can  be — as  simple 
as  a  breath — it  is  merely  inhaling  a  breath  into  one's  heart,  and 
emitting  it  again,  and  the  name  is  spoken. 

"  I  find  it  a  very  sober  and  serious  kind  of  happiness  that  springs 
from  the  birth  of  a  child.  It  ought  not  to  come  too  early  in  a  man's 
life — not  till  he  has  fully  enjoyed  his  youth — for  methinks  the  spirit 
can  never  be  thoroughly  gay  and  careless  again,  after  this  great 
event.  We  gain  infinitely  by  the  exchange ;  but  we  do  give  up 
something  nevertheless.  As  for  myself,  who  have  been  a  trifler 
preposterously  long,  I  find  it  necessary  to  come  out  of  my  cloud- 
region,  and  allow  myself  to  be  woven  into  the  sombre  texture  of 
humanity.  There  is  no  escaping  it  any  longer.  I  have  business  on 
earth  now,  and  must  look  about  me  for  the  means  of  doing  it. 

"It  will  never  do  for  me  to  continue  merely  a  writer  of  stories 
for  the  magazines — the  most  unprofitable  business  in  the  world  ; 
and  moreover,  even  if  there  were  ever  so  great  a  demand  for  my 
productions,  I  could  not  spend  more  than  a  third  of  my  time  in  this 
sort  of  composition.  It  requires  a  continual  freshness  of  mind, 
else  a  deterioration  in  the  article  will  quickly  be  perceptible.  If  I 


102  LIFE  OF 

am  to  support  myself  by  literature,  it  must  be  by  what  is  called 
drudgery,  but  which  is  incomparably  less  irksome,  as  a  business, 
than  imaginative  writing — by  translation,  concocting  of  school-books, 
newspaper  scribbling,  &c.  If  we  have  a  democratic  administration 
next  year,  I  shall  again  favour  Uncle  Sam  with  my  services,  though 
I  hope  in  some  less  disagreeable  shape  than  formerly. 

"  I  sent  an  article  to  Graham  some  months  ago,  and  he  wrote  to 
me,  accepting  it  with  *  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,'  &c.  ;  but  it  does 
not  yet  appear.  Unless  he  publishes  it  next  month,  I  shall  reclaim 
it,  having  occasion  for  it  elsewhere.  God  keep  me  from  ever 
being  really  a  writer  for  bread  !  If  I  alone  was  concerned  I  had 
rather  starve ;  but  in  that  case  poor  little  Una  would  have  to  take 
refuge  in  the  alms-house — which  here  in  Concord  is  a  most  gloomy 
old  mansion.  Her  'angel  face'  would  hardly  make  a  sunshine 
there.  You  must  come  and  see  little  Una,  and  the  rest  of  us,  as 
soon  as  the  railroad  is  opened.  People  of  experience  in  babies  say 
she  is  going  to  be  pretty — which  I  devoutly  believe,  though  the 
tokens  are  hidden  from  my  eyes.  At  all  events  she  is  a  remarkably 
strong  and  healthy  child,  free  from  all  troubles  and  torments  such 
as  Nature  generally  provides  for  poor  little  babies.  She  seldom 
cries  except  for  hunger — her  alimentiveness  being  enormously  de- 
veloped. She  has  already  smiled  once,  on  the  sixteenth  morning 
of  her  existence.  I  was  inclined  to  attribute  it  to  wind,  which 
sometimes  produces  a  sardonic  grin  ;  but  her  mother,  who  was  the 
sole  witness  of  the  phenomenon,  persists  that  it  was  a  veritable  smile 
out  of  the  child's  mouth  and  eyes.  I  hope  to  see  you  in  Boston 
early  in  next  month.  Give  our  regards  to  Mrs.  Hillard.  We  long 
to  show  her  our  baby.  I  am  glad  of  Longfellow's  anticipated 
happiness.  It  is  a  pity  that  any  mortal  should  go  out  of  life  with- 
out experiencing  what  gives  life  its  reality ;  and,  next  to  a  child  on 
earth,  it  is  good  to  have  a  child  in  Heaven. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  NATH.  HAWTHORNE." 

The  last  sentence  alludes  to  his  friend  Hillard's  recent 
loss  of  an  only  child. 

For  little  Una,  a  huge  cat  was  in  due  time  procured, 
and  of  course  named  Lion ;  but  the  real  lion  she  rode 


HA  WTHORNE.  103- 

on  was  her  broad-shouldered  father.  It  was,  however, 
she  who  presently  carried  him  from  his  Concord  paradise. 
A  family  cannot  live  on  Old  Manse  mosses  or  roses,  or 
even  its  romances,  alone.  Something  must  be  done. 
A  democratic  administration  has  come — that  of  Polk — 
and  Hawthorne's  friends  lose  no  time  in  looking  after 
his  interests.  "Everything  now  seems  to  be  wearing 
out  all  at  once,"  writes  Mrs.  Ha\ythorne  to  her  mother 
(May,  1845).  "Had  my  husband  been  dealt  justly  by 
in  the  matter  of  emoluments,  there  would  not  have  been 
even  this  shadow  upon  the  blessedness  of  our  condition. 
But  Horatio  Bridge  and  Franklin  Pierce  came  yesterday, 
and  gave  us  solid  hope.  .  .  .  Mr.  Hawthorne  was  in 
the  shed,  hewing  wood.  Mr.  Bridge  caught  a  glimpse 
of  him,  and  began  a  sort  of  waltz  towards  him.  Mr. 
Pierce  followed ;  and  when  they  reappeared,  Mr.  Pierce's 
arm  was  encircling  my  husband's  old  blue  frock.  How 
his  friends  do  love  him  ! "  O'Sullivan,  of  the  collapsed 
Democratic  Review  (he  was  Una's  godfather),  writes : 
"  Something  satisfactory  shall  be  done  for  you."  It  was 
not  poverty  but  debt  that  was  worrying  Hawthorne,  who,, 
in  all  pecuniary  matters,  was  always  most  scrupulous. 
"It  is  wholly  new  to  him  to  be  in  debt,"  writes  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  to  her  mother ;  "  and  he  cannot  *  whistle 
for  it,'  as  Mr.  Emerson  advised  him  to  do,  telling  him 
that  everybody  was  in  debt,  and  that  they  were  all  worse 
than  he  was.  His  soul  is  too  fresh  with  Heaven  to  take 
the  world's  point  of  view  about  anything." 

"  Sleeping  or  waking,  we  hear  not  the  airy  footsteps 
of  the  strange  things  that  almost  happen."  So  wrote 
Hawthorne  in  his  exquisite  fable,  "  David  Swan."  As 


104  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

many  different  possible  destinies  now  hovered  around 
Hawthorne  as  about  the  slumbering  young  David.  A 
naval  post,  a  place  in  the  Legation  at  China,  Consulates 
in  various  regions  of  the  world,  were  proposed  for  him. 
But,  as  his  sister  wrote  long  before,  "  by  some  fatality 
we  all  seemed  to  be  brought  back  to  Salem,  in  spite  of 
our  intentions  and  even  resolutions."  It  was  for  Salem 
Custom  House  that  Hawthorne,  after  nearly  four  years 
at  the  Old  Manse,  parted  from  its  roses  along  with  their 
thorns,  but  taking  its  mosses  for  an  unfading  life. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HAWTHORNE  was  appointed  Surveyor  of  Customs 
at  Salem  in  March,  1846.  The  salary  was  only 
^£240;  but  the  debts  were  paid  off,  and,  as  they  made 
one  household  with  his  mother  and  sister,  the  combined 
means  were  sufficient  for  physical  comfort.  The  draw- 
back was,  that  the  author  was  without  a  study. 

Though  Hawthorne  had  a  certain  love  for  his  native 
town,  he  did  not  like  it.  In  1846  it  was  a  picturesque 
elm-embowered  old  village,  hardly  discoverable  in  the 
Salem  of  to-day,  with  its  admirable  museum  and  other 
institutions,  and  its  atmosphere  of  culture.  Yet,  as  Mr. 
Underwood  has  pointed  out,  in  an  excellent  article  on 
Hawthorne  (Good  Words,  Oct.,  1887),  it  was  especially 
suited  to  nourish  his  genius.  People  from  every  clime 
moved  about  its  port,  and  there  were  steady  importations 
of  sea-legends,  tales  of  slavers  and  pirates,  from  which 
the  boy  Hawthorne  had  once  levied  tribute  where  the 
man  must  levy  on  more  prosaic  stuff.  The  Salem  boys 
still  kindled  fifth-of-November  fires  on  Gallows  Hill,  as 
their  fathers  did,  without  dreaming  of  Guy  Fawkes ; 
Whitsuntide  survived  under  disguise  of  the  gubernational 
Election  Festival ;  there  were  haunted  houses  and  gabled 


106  LIFE  OF 

houses,  and  in  them  the  scanty  old  libraries  of  the 
colonists ;  nay,  even  the  old  costumes  were  sometimes 
visible  in  the  streets.  Absorbed,  however,  in  less  interest- 
ing "  Customs,"  Hawthorne  felt  that  he  had  passed  from 
happy  though  ill-fed  freedom  in  Concord  to  wear  a  collar 
round  his  neck.  From  that  four  years'  felicity  he  came 
to  three  years'  bondage  ;  yet  the  "  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse,"  representing  the  former,  were  of  slight  import- 
ance compared  with  the  two  great  novels  that  grew  in 
grimy  Salem  Custom  House. 

There  never  was  a  better  officer.  "  Placid  " — I  quote 
by  permission  a  letter  ot  his  Salem  friend,  Dr.  Loring— 
"  Placid,  peaceful,  calm,  and  retiring  as  he  was  in  all  the 
ordinary  events  of  life,  he  was  tempestuous  and  irre- 
sistible when  roused.  An  attempt  on  the  part  of  a  rough 
and  overbearing  sea-captain  to  interfere  with  his  business 
as  an  inspector  of  Customs  in  charge  of  his  ship,  was 
met  with  such  a  terrific  uprising  of  spiritual  and  physical 
wrath,  that  the  dismayed  captain  fled  up  the  wharf  and 
took  refuge  in  the  Office,  inquiring,  '  What  in  God's  name 
have  you  sent  on  board  my  ship  as  an  inspector  ? '  He 
knew  no  such  thing  as  fear  ;  was  scrupulously  honest ; 
was  unwavering  in  his  fidelity ;  conscientious  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty.  I  have  kngwn  no  man  more 
impressive,  none  in  whom  the  great  reposing  strength 
seemed  clad  in  such  a  robe  of  sweetness."  J 

1  I  add,  in  a  note,  as  it  is  not  in  strict  connection,  Dr.  Loring's 
impression  of  Hawthorne's  personality.  "  His  massive  head  sat 
upon  a  strong  and  muscular  neck,  and  his  chest  was  broad  and 
capacious.  His  muscular  force  was  great — his  hand  and  foot  large 
and  well-made.  In  walking  he  had  a  firm  step  and  a  great  stride, 
without  effort.  In  early  manhood  he  had  abounding  health,  a  good 


HA  WTHORNE.  107 

The  sea-captain's  question  was  echoed  in  a  way  by  all 
Salem — What  have  you  sent  us  as  an  inspector  ?  It  was 
customary  in  those  days  for  a  Revenue  Office  to  be  a 
centre  of  party  intrigues.  Hawthorne  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  politics,  and  the  local  democracy 
detested  him.  The  democratic  party  in  Massachusetts 
was  then  very  different  from  what  it  is  now.  It  was 
largely  the  party  of  rowdies.  The  respectable  and  well- 
to-do  citizens  were  Whigs,  and  those  of  Salem  looked 
askance  on  Hawthorne  because  he  was  a  democrat. 
The  new  surveyor  held  aloof  from  the  political  schemings 
of  both  parties,  and  was  cordially  disliked  by  both.  There 
is  nothing  in  Hawthorne's  "  Note  Books  "  or  published 
letters  about  this  Salem  experience,  but  his  wife's  letters, 
published  by  her  son,  contain  some  significant  items. 
Before  the  family  had  settled  in  Salem  this  son,  Julian, 
the  second  child,  was  born  in  Boston,  where  Mrs.  Haw- 
thorne passed  the  summer  (1846).  On  Nov.  17  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  writes  from  Salem  that  they  had  passed  an 
evening  with  Emerson  at  Mr.  Howe's  house.  "  It  is  the 
first  time  we  have  spent  the  evening  out  since  Una  was 

digestion,  a  hearty  enjoyment  of  food.  His  excellent  physical 
condition  gave  him  a  placid  and  even  temper,  a  cheerful  spirit.  He 
was  a  silent  man,  and  often  a  moody  man,  but  never  irritable  or 
morose ;  his  organization  was  too  grand  for  that.  In  conversation 
he  was  never  controversial  or  authoritative,  and  never  absorbing. 
In  a  multitude  his  silence  was  oppressive,  but  with  a  single  com- 
panion his  talk  flowed  on  sensibly  and  quietly  and  full  of  wisdom 
and  shrewdness.  He  discussed  books  with  wonderful  acuteness, 
sometimes  with  startling  power,  and  with  an  unexpected  verdict. 
He  analyzed  men,  their  characters,  and  motives,  and  capacity,  with 
great  penetration — impartially  if  a  stranger,  with  the  tenderest 
justice  if  a  friend." 


108  LIFE  OF 

born"  They  at  first  dwelt  in  the  old  family  house  in 
Herbert  Street;  it  was  not  until  the  autumn  of  1847 
that  they  found  one  large  enough  to  accommodate  the 
families  and  give  Hawthorne  a  .study.  It  was  in  Mall 
Street,  and  its  annual  cost  ^"40.  "  My  husband's  study 
will  be  high  from  all  noise,  and  it  will  be  to  me  a 
Paradise  of  Peace  to  think  of  him  alone  and  still,  yet 
within  my  reach.  He  has  now  lived  in  the  nursery 
a  year  without  a  chance  for  one  hour's  uninterrupted 
musing,  and  without  his  desk  being  once  opened.  He 
—  the  heaven-gifted  Seer  —  to  spend  his  life  between  the 
Custom  House  and  the  nursery  !  I  want  him  to  be 
with  me,  not  because  he  must  be,  but  only  when  he  is 
just  in  the  mood  for  all  the  scenes  of  Babydom.  In  the 
evening  he  is  always  mine,  for  then  he  never  wishes  to 
write."  "  Madame  Hawthorne  is  so  uninterfering,  of  so 
much  delicacy,  that  I  shall  never  know  she  is  near 
excepting  when  I  wish  it  ;  and  she  has  so  much  kindness 
and  sense  and  spirit  that  she  will  be  a  great  resource  in 
emergencies." 

The  Peabodys  —  Mrs.  Hawthorne's  parents  —  no  longer 
resided  in  Salem,  but  were  engaged  with  their  daughter 
Elizabeth  in  her  transcendental  book  (and  homoeopathic) 
establishment  in  Boston.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  visited  them 
in  June,  1848.  Let  the  dismal  surveyor's  orifice  be 
credited  with  the  following,  from  a  letter  to  the  absent 
wife,  there  dated,  June 


"  Tell  my  little  daughter  Una  that  her  dolly,  since  her  departure, 
has  been  blossoming  like  a  rose  —  such  an  intense  bloom,  indeed, 
that  I  rather  suspected  her  of  making  free  with  a  brandy-bottle. 
On  taxing  her  with  it,  however,  she  showed  no  signs  of  guilt  or 


HA  WTHORNE.  109 

confusion,  and  I  trust  it  was  merely  owing  to  the  hot  weather.  The 
colour  has  now  subsided  into  quite  a  moderate  tint,  and  she  looks 
splendidly  at  a  proper  distance,  though,  on  close  inspection,  her  skin 
appears  rather  coarse.  She  has  contracted  an  unfortunate  habit  of 
squinting,  and  her  mouth,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  somewhat  askew.  I 
shall  take  her  to  task  on  these  matters,  and  hope  to  produce  a 
reformation.  Should  I  fail,  thou  must  take  her  in  hand.  Give 
Una  a  kiss,  and  tell  her  I  love  her  dearly." 

The  Salem  of  to-day  is,  no  doubt,  sufficiently  ashamed 
of  the  way  in  which  Hawthorne  was  treated  by  the  Salem 
of  forty  years  ago.  He  had  already  been  recognized  by 
the  finest  minds  in  the  country,  but  now,  returning  to 
his  native  town,  it  had  no  pride  in  him.  There  were 
exceptions,  no  doubt,  but  Salem,  as  a  town,  supplied  him 
no  shield  against  his  enemies.  For  the  feeling  of  the 
vulgar  partizans,  to  whose  assembly  his  honour  could  not 
be  united,  amounted  to  enmity.  This  was  not,  perhaps, 
or  not  universally,  the  feeling  in  the  Custom  House  itself. 
Probably  not  one  of  his  fellow-officials,  he  supposes,  had 
ever  read  a  word  of  his  writings ;  but  they  no  doubt  felt 
his  superiority  and  knew  his  magnanimity.  Yet  among 
them  he  appears  to  have  found  only  two  with  whom  he 
could  be  on  anything  like  personal  terms.  One  was  the 
head  clerk,  "Zach.  Burchmore,"  easily  identified  as  the 
man  described,  though  unnamed,  in  the  introduction  to 
"The  Scarlet  Letter."  "He  was,  indeed,  the  Custom 
House  in  himself ; "  and  the  observation  of  his  character 
gave  Hawthorne  "  a  new  idea  of  talent."  "  Here,  in  a 
word — and  it  is  a  rare  instance  in  my  life — I  had  met 
with  a  person  thoroughly  adapted  to  the  situation  which 
he  held."  Burchmore  was  a  man  of  humour,  too.  From 
my  friend  Mr.  Williamson  I  have  a  note  of  his  :  "  SALEM, 


110  LIFE  OF 

Jan.  27,  1848.  For  value  received  I  promise  to  pay 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne  four  pence  in  sixty  years. — Z. 
BURCHMORE."  Over  the  face  of  this  is  written  :  "  Pay 
the  within  to  the  Wandering  Jew,  Nath'l  Hawthorne." 
The  other  official  who  interested  Hawthorne  was  a  sort 
of  Socrates-in-the-rough,  named  Pike,  of  whom  Hawthorne 
said  to  President  Pierce,  "  there  is  an  old  fellow  at  Salem 
who  has  more  brains  than  either  of  us."  Neither  Burch- 
more  nor  Pike  ever  read  a  line  of  Hawthorne's,  but  they 
were  fascinated  by  him,  and  an  amusing  feud  arose  from 
their  jealousy  of  each  other's  place  in  his  regard. 

It  is  pleasant  to  associate  that  grim  Custom  House 
with  even  one  laugh.  For  it  was  a  dismal  time.  In 
those  days  even  the  pittance  paid  to  Customs  Surveyors 
by  the  Treasury  was  delayed,  if  the  receipts  fell  off,  and 
for  this  stinted  income  odious  work  was  sometimes 
required.  Hawthorne,  for  instance,  was  required  by  the 
Treasury  to  dismiss  two  temporary  inspectors ;  and, 
despite  his  efforts  to  save  them  by  merely  suspending 
them  until  business  might  justify  their  return,  they  became 
his  enemies.1 

1  It  appears  that  there  was  some  treachery  in  this  business,  and 
that  some  subordinate  used  the  suspension  to  get  a  partizan  contri- 
bution from  the  men  as  a  means  of  restoration.  This  was  actually 
charged  against  Hawthorne,  proving  how  little  he  was  known  in 
Salem.  A  painful  circumstance  is  that  among  his  opponents  should 
have  been  Charles  W.  Upham,  historian  of  "  Salem  Witchcraft  " — 
the  man  of  all  others  who  should  have  been  a  friend  to  his  brother 
author.  Mr.  Upham  was  not,  as  Hawthorne  supposed,  prime 
mover  in  the  affair ;  his  fault  was  in  lending  his  ear  to  the  accusa- 
tions of  others.  Hawthorne,  it  should  be  said,  had  some  years 
before  been  annoyed  by  Mr.  Upham 's  mentioning  in  Salem  the 
poverty  of  the  Hawthornes  in  Concord,  and  possibly  had  conceived 


HAWTHORNE.  Ill 

In  November,  1848,  the  Whig  candidate,  General 
Zachary  Taylor,  was  elected  to  the  presidency,  and 
there  was  a  clamour  for  Hawthorne's  official  head.  In 
this  the  Whigs  and  Democrats  combined,  though  it 
would  appear  that  afterwards,  when  it  was  too  late, 
there  was  a  reaction.  But  the  story  is  told  by  Haw- 
thorne himself  in  his  letters  to  George  S.  Hillard 
(Athen&um,  August  10  and  17,  1889).  Dr.  John  S.  H. 
Fogg,  of  Boston,  the  owner  of  these  letters,  enables  me 
to  supply  a  passage  omitted  from  the  first  letter,  as 
printed  in  the  Athen&um  : 

'•'•March  5,  1849. 

"I  am  informed  that  there  is  to  be  a  strong  effort  among  the 
politicians  here  to  remove  me  from  office,  and  that  my  successor  is 
already  marked  out.  I  do  not  think  that  this  ought  to  be  done  ; 
for  I  was  not  appointed  to  office  as  a  reward  for  political  services, 
nor,  have  I  acted  as  a  politician  since.  A  large  portion  of  the  local 
democratic  party  look  coldly  on  me  for  not  having  used  the  influence 
of  my  position  to  obtain  the  removal  of  Whigs — which  I  might  have 
done,  but  which  I  in  no  case  did.  Neither  was  my  appointment 
made  at  the  expense  of  a  Whig  ;  for  my  predecessor  was  appointed 
by  Tyler  in  his  latter  days,  and  called  himself  a  Democrati.  Nor 
can  any  charge  of  inattention  to  duty,  or  other  official  misconduct, 
be  brought  against  me  ;  or,  if  so,  I  could  easily  refute  it.  There  is, 
therefore,  no  ground  for  disturbing  me,  except  on  the  most  truculent 
party  system.  All  this,  however,  will  be  of  little  avail  with  the 
Hangwhangers — the  vote-distributors — the  Jack  Cades  who  assume 
to  decide  upon  these  matters,  after  a  political  triumph  ;  and  as  to 


a  dislike  for  him.  It  should  be  added  that- the  personal  charge 
against  Hawthorne  was  of  "loafing  round  with  hard  drinkers." 
His  own  head  was  proof  against  stimulants,  but  this  was  not  the 
case  with  all  of  those  with  whom  he  associated.  No  charge  of 
immorality  was  ever  made  against  Hawthorne. 


112  LIFE  OF 

any  literary  claims  of  mine,  they  would  not  weigh  a  feather,  nor  be 
thought  worth  weighing  at  all.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  an 
inoffensive  man  of  letters,  having  obtained  a  pitiful  little  office, 
on  no  other  plea  than  his  pitiful  little  literature,  ought  not  to  be 
left  to  the  mercy  of  these  thick-skulled  and  no-hearted  ruffians.  It 
is  for  this  that  I  now  write  to  you.  There  are  men  in  Boston — Mr. 
Rufus  Choate,  for  instance — whose  favourable  influence  with  the 
administration  would  make  it  impossible  to  remove  me,  and 
whose  support  and  sympathy  might  fairly  be  obtained  in  my  behalf 
— not  on  the  ground  that  I  am  a  very  good  writer,  but  because  I 
gained  my  position,  such  as  it  is,  by  my  literary  character,  and  have 
done  nothing  to  forfeit  that  tenure.  I  do  not  think  you  can  have 
any  objection  to  bringing  this  matter  under  the  consideration  of  such 
men ;  but  if  you  do  object,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  for  some  good 
reason,  and  therefore  beg  you  not  to  stir  in  it.  I  do  not  want  any 
great  fuss  to  be  made  :  the  whole  thing  is  not  worth  it :  but  I  should 
like  to  have  the  Administration  enlightened  by  a  few  such  testimo- 
nials as  would  take  my  name  out  of  the  list  of  ordinary  office-holders, 
and  at  least  prevent  any  hasty  action.  I  think,  too,  that  the  letters 
(if  you  obtain  any)  had  better  contain  no  allusion  to  the  proposed 
attack  on  me,  as  it  may  possibly  fall  through  of  itself.  Certainly 
the  general  feeling  here  in  Salem  would  be  in  my  favour  ;  but  I  have 
seen  too  much  of  the  modes  of  political  action  to  lay  any  great 
stress  on  that. 

"  Be  pleased  on  no  account  to  mention  this  matter  to  any  Salem 
man,  however  friendly  to  me  he  may  profess  himself.  If  any  move- 
ment on  my  part  were  heard  of,  it  would  precipitate  their  assault. 

"  So  much  for  business.  I  do  not  let  myself  be  disturbed  by 
these  things,  but  employ  my  leisure  hours  in  writing,  and  go  on  as 
quietly  as  ever.  I  see  that  Longfellow  has  written  a  prose  tale. 
How  indefatigable  he  is !  and  how  adventurous  !  Well  he  may  be,, 
for  he  never  fails." 

"JuneK,  1849. 

"I  am  turned  out  of  office  ! 

"  There  is  no  use  in  lamentation.  It  now  remains  to  consider 
what  I  shall  do  next.  The  emoluments  of  the  office  have  been  so 
moderate  '  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  anything  more  than 
support  my  family,  and  pay  some  few  debts  that  I  had  contracted. 


HA  WTHORNE.  113 

If  you  could  do  anything  in  the  way  of  procuring  me  some 
stated  literary  employment,  in  connection  with  a  newspaper,  or 
as  corrector  of  the  press  to  some  printing  establishment,  &c.,  it 
could  not  come  at  a  better  time.  Perhaps  Epes  Sargent,  who  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  would  know  of  something.  I  shall  not  stand  upon  my 
dignity  ;  that  must  take  care  of  itself.  Perhaps  there  may  be  some 
subordinate  office  connected  with  the  Boston  Athenaeum  [Library] . 
Do  not  think  anything  too  humble  to  be  mentioned  to  me. 

"  I  wrote  to  Longfellow  the  other  day  that  I  would  dine  with 
him  on  his  next  invitation,  and  that  you  would  come  too.  I  should 
like  soon  to  meet  you  and  him. 

"  The  intelligence  has  just  reached  me,  and  Sophia  has  not  yet 
heard  it.  She  will  bear  it  like  a  woman — that  is  to  say,  better  than 
a  man." 

"  SALEM,  June  12,  1849. 

•'  I  have  just  received  your  letter.  It  makes  me  sick  at  heart 
to  think  of  making  any  effort  to  retain  this  office.  I  trust  that  God 
means  to  put  me  in  some  other  position  ;  and '  I  care  not  how  hard 
or  how  humble  it  may  be.  Nevertheless,  I  answer  your  questions 
as  well  as  I  can. 

"  I  am  accused,  you  tell  me,  of  writing  political  articles  for  a 
democratic  paper  here — the  Salem  Advertiser.  My  contributions  to 
that  paper  have  been  two  theatrical  criticisms,  a  notice  of  a  ball  at 
Ballard  Vale,  a  notice  of  Longfellow's  '  Evangeline,'  and  perhaps 
half  a  dozen  other  books.  Never  one  word  of  politics.  Any  one  of 
the  articles  would  have  been  perfectly  proper  for  a  Whig  paper,  and 
indeed  most  of  them  were  copied  into  Whig  papers  elsewhere. 
You  know  and  the  public  knows  what  my  contributions  to  The 
Democratic  Review  have  been.  They  are  all  published  in  one  or 
another  of  my  volumes — all,  with  a  single  exception.  That  is  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  life  of  my  early  and  very  dear  friend  Cilley, 
written  shortly  after  his  death,  at  the  request  of  the  editor.  I  have 
not  read  it  for  years ;  but  I  am  willing  to  refer  to  it  as  a  proof  of 
what  sort  of  a  politician  I  am.  Written  in  the  very  midst  of  my 
grief,  and  when  every  other  man  in  the  nation,  on  both  sides,  was 
at  fever-heat,  it  is,  though  very  sad,  as  calm  as  though  it  had  been 
written  a  hundred  years  after  the  event ;  and  so  far  as  I  recollect  it, 
it  might  as  well  have  been  written  by  a  Whig  as  a  Democrat.  Look 
8 


114  LIFE  OF 

at  it,  and  see.  It  cannot  be  called  a  political  article ;  and,  with 
that  single  exception,  I  have  never,  in  all  my  life,  written  one  word 
that  had  reference  to  politics. 

"As  to  my  political  action,  I  have  voted,  since  I  have  been  in 
office,  twice.  I  have  listened  to  a  portion  of  a  political  address  by 
Mr.  Rantoul,  and  to  a  portion  of  another  by  Caleb  Gushing.  I 
suffer  under  considerable  odium  in  the  view  of  my  own  party  for 
having  taken  no  part  whatever.  All  rny  official  conduct  has  been 
under  the  supervision  and  sanction  of  Colonel  Miller,  a  Whig,  the 
Deputy  Collector,  and  now  Collector  of  the  port.  He  is  now  in 
Washington.  I  refer  to  him.  If  any  definite  charges  were  before 
me,  I  would  answer  them.  As  it  is,  I  have  no  more  to  say — and  do 
not  care  to  have  said  what  I  have. 

"I  repeat,  that  it  makes  me  sick  to  think  of  attempting  to  recover 
this  office.  Neither  have  I  any  idea  that  it  can  be  recovered.  There 
is  no  disposition  to  do  me  justice.  The  Whigs  know  that  the 
charges  are  false.  But,  without  intending  it,  they  are  doing  me 
a  higher  justice  than  my  best  friends.  I  have  come  to  feel  that  it  is 
not  good  for  me  to  be  here.  I  am  in  a  lower  moral  state  than  I 
have  been — a  duller  intellectual  one.  So  let  me  go ;  and,  under 
God's  providence,  I  shall  arrive  at  something  better. 

It  seems  probable,  from  the  foregoing  letter,  that  the 
ghost  of  poor  Cilley  had  once  more  risen  in  Hawthorne's 
path,  and  his  praise  of  that  democratic  statesman  been 
recalled  by  a  Whig  administration,  as  his  condemnation 
of  an  accessory  to  the  duel-murder  had  forfeited  the 
favour  of  a  democratic  administration.  If  this  be  so, 
the  ghost  of  Cilley  really  did  him  good  service  this  time. 
Hawthorne's  removal  from  the  Custom  House  was  the 
first  entrance  on  a  career  worthy  of  him.  His  wife 
having  greeted  the  tidings  as  a  release,  Hawthorne  at 
once  realized  how  great  a  burden  had  been  lifted.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  resentment  of  this  removal  among 
men  who  wielded  sharp  pens.  President  Taylor  had 


HA  WTHORNE.  115 

been  elected  by  voters  from  both  parties,  on  account 
of  his  military  services,  and  had  proclaimed,  "  I  am 
.a  Whig,  but  not  an  ultra  Whig."  But  official  democratic 
heads  fell  all  the  same,  and  Hawthorne's  case  presented 
an  extreme  application  of  the  "  spoils  system."  Possibly 
his  office  might  have  been  restored  had  he  not  refused 
to  accede  to  it.  He  tried  to  utilize  all  the:sentiment 
elicited  for  himself  for  the  restoration  of  Burchmore. 
This  officer,  bred  in  the  Custom  House,  had  been 
ruthlessly  removed,  and  Hawthorne  wrote  letter  after 
letter  to  testify  the  importance  of  Burchmore's  services 
to  the  public  business  at  Salem.1 

What  is  said,  in  the  foregoing  statement,  of  Haw- 
thorne's relations  with  Salem,  is  based  on  his  letters,  and 
his  introduction  to  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  though  not 
without  misgivings,  based  on  my  personal  recollections 
of  Salem's  hospitable  homes,  that  there  must  be  another 
side,  not  visible  to  the  author  in  his  transient  vale  of 
humiliation.  I  therefore  submitted  the  matter  to  my 

1  It  was  all  of  no  avail,  and  the  poor  head  clerk,  who  had  given 
Hawthorne  "  a  new  idea  of  talent,"  disappears  in  some  small  shop 
in  .Salem.  Mr.  Williamson  has  several  letters  to  Burchmore  after- 
wards written  by  Hawthorne.  In  one  (May  13,  1850)  Hawthorne, 
now  in  Boston,  says,  "  I  can't  come  to  Salem,  and,  to  say  the 
truth,  would  rather  go  to  any  other  place  in  the  known  world." 
From  Lenox  (April  7,  1851),  he  writes  :  "Do  you  deal  in  cigars? 
If  you  meet  with  any  good  ones,  at  a  reasonable  rate,  I  should  like 
to  have  you  reserve  a  quarter  of  a  thousand  for  me  ;  and  I  will  call 
for  them  when  I  come  to  Boston."  From  Concord  (July,  1852)  : 
"  Is  there  any  first-rate  brandy  to  be  had  ?  I  shall  want  a  gallon  or 
two  before  the  liquor  law  goes  into  operation."  So  his  patronage 
went  all  the  way  to  Salem  for  the  sake  of  this  humiliated  clerk. 


110  LIFE  OF 

friend  Dr.  Loring,    a  friend  of  both  Salem  and  Haw- 
thorne, and  am  permitted  to  quote  his  reply  : 

"  Salem   did   not    *  treat   its   illustrious    son '    at   all, 
because  he  gave  it  no  opportunity.     He  was  a  recluse 
there  always.     In  early  life  he  was  part  of  the  time  in 
Maine,  part  of  the  time  in  college,  and  the  rest  of  the 
time  an  unknown  and  apparently  idle  young  man.     He 
wrote   stories   and   published    them   in   magazines,  but 
nobody  knew  who  wrote  them;  and  Elizabeth  Peabody 
told  me  that  for  a  long  time  it  was  supposed  they  were 
written   by   a   woman — and   that   not   long   before   the 
'  Twice-told  Tales '  came  out.      She  first  discovered  that 
they  were  written  in  Salem,  and  then,  after  long  search, 
that  they  were  written  by  one  Hawthorne.      It  was  very 
difficult  for  the   Peabodys  to   make   his   acquaintance. 
At  last  their  culture  and  intellectual  capacity  drew  him 
out,    and    he    began  to  call   at  their  house.     To  the 
Peabody   family   he   confined   his   social   attentions   in 
Salem.     My   first   wife,    a   cousin  of  Mrs.    Hawthorne, 
used  often  to  urge  Sophia  to  bring  him  to  her  house, 
but  in  vain.     Salem  was  full  of  cultivated  and  brilliant 
people  at  that  time,  but  Hawthorne  could  not  be  induced 
to  visit  them.     He  was  really  too  shy  for  such  social 
intercourse;  his  brain  was  too  busy  with  its  creations; 
and  he  had  no  gift  whatever  for  ordinary  conversation. 
His  life  had  been  too  long  secluded.      His  daily  official 
associates  [when  he  had  returned  there  after  marriage] 
were  a   group   of  men,  all  of  whom   had    remarkable 
characteristics,  not  of  the  best  many  times,  but  original, 
strong,  highly-flavoured,  defiant  democrats,  with  whom 
he  was  officially  connected,  who  made  no  appeal  to  him,, 


HA  WTHORNE.  117 

but  responded  to  the  uncultivated  side  of  his  nature,  and 
to  whose  defects  he  was  blind  on  account  of  their 
originality.  If  they  were  given  to  excesses,  as  perhaps 
one  or  two  of  them  were,  he  took  no  part  with  them  in 
that  side  of  their  lives.  How  often  it  happens  that 
a  hard,  rough,  racy,  unpolished,  strong,  and  vigorous 
person  furnishes  a  sort  of  relief  to  the  refined  and 
•cultivated,  as  the  eye  accustomed  to  the  artistic  beauties 
of  the  garden  and  the  gallery,  and  to  the  refinements  of 
a  tasteful  home,  will  take  delight  in  the  rudeness  of  a 
homely  cottage  on  a  rough  and  rugged  mountain  side ! 
Hawthorne  was  thrown  into  such  a  group  in  the  Custom 
House,  and  he  associated  with  them  while  he  was  not  of 
them.  Ever  in  reserve,  he  was  an  uneventful  person — 
his  great  charm  consisting  in  his  manifest  appreciation  of 
everything  about  him.  He  was  most  winning  in  his  own 
home  and  in  the  houses  of  his  friends.  His  entertain- 
ments of  me  at  Concord  were  charming,  but  there  is  no 
-event  about  them.  He  should  be  judged  by  his  intimacy 
with  the  Peabodys,  and  by  his  home  made  most  taste- 
ful and  refined  by  his  brilliant  wife,  where  he  spent 
all  his  leisure  hours,  and  to  which  he  was  always 
devoted." 

At  the  time  when  Hawthorne's  fortunes  seemed  to 
reach  their  lowest  depth,  he  found  himself,  as  it  were, 
rich.  In  the  first  place  his  wife  disclosed  a  hundred  and 
fifty  golden  dollars  which,  without  his  knowledge,  she 
had  saved  up  for  just  this  rainy  day.  Another  hundred 
-came  unexpectedly  from  O'Sullivan — saved  from  wreck 
of  The  Democratic  Review.  And  how  unsuspectedly 
rich  this  ostracized  Salemite  was  in  friends  a  little  way 


118  .    LIFE  OF 

off  was  presently  revealed  by  a  substantial  cheque  and  a 
noble  letter  (Jan.  17,  1850)  from  Hillard : 

"  It  occurred  to  me,"  so  it  ran,  "and  some  other  of  your  friends 
that,  in  consideration  of  the  events  of  the  last  year,  you  might  at 
this  time  be  in  need  of  a  little  pecuniar)'  aid.  I  have  therefore  col- 
lected, from  some  of  those  who  admire  your  genius  and  respect  your 
character,  the  enclosed  sum  of  money,  which  I  send  you  with  my 
warmest  wishes  for  your  health  and  happiness.  I  know  the  sensitive 
edge  of  your  temperament ;  but  do  not  speak  or  think  of  obligation. 
It  is  only  paying,  in  a  very  imperfect  measure,  the  debt  we  owe  you 
for  what  you  have  done  for  American  literature.  Could  you  know 
the  readiness  with  which  every  one  to  whom  I  applied  contributed 
to  this  little  offering,  and  could  you  have  heard  the  warm  expressions 
with  which  some  accompanied  their  gift,  you  would  have  felt  that 
the  bread  you  had  cast  on  the  waters  had  indeed  come  back  to  you. 
Let  no  shadow  of  despondency,  my  dear  friend,  steal  over  you. 
Your  friends  do  not  and  will  not  forget  you.  You  shall  be  protected 
against  '  eating  cares,'  which,  I  take  it,  mean  cares  lest  we  should 
not  have  enough  to  eat." 

And  here  is  the  touching  reply  : 

"  SALEM,  Jan.  30,  1850. 

"  I  read  your  letter  in  the  vestibule  of  the  Post  Office ;  and  it 
drew — what  my  troubles  never  have — the  water  to  my  eyes  ;  so  that 
I  was  glad  of  the  sharply  cold  west  wind  that  blew  into  them 
as  I  came  homeward,  and  gave  them  an  excuse  for  being  red  and 
bleared. 

"  There  was  much  that  was  very  sweet — and  something  too  that 
was  very  bitter — mingled  with  that  same  moisture.  It  is  sweet  to 
be  remembered  and  cared  for  by  one's  friends — some  of  whom  know 
me  for  what  I  am,  while  others,  perhaps,  know  me  only  through  a 
generous  faith — sweet  to  think  that  they  deem  me  worth  upholding 
in  my  poor  work  through  life.  And  it  is  bitter,  nevertheless,  to. 
need  their  support.  It  is  something  else  besides  pride  that  teaches 
me  that  ill-success  in  life  is  really  and  justly  a  matter  of  shame.  I 
am  ashamed  of  it,  and  I  ought  to  be.  The  fault  of  a  failure  is 


HA  WTHORNE.  119 

attributable — in  a  great  degree  at  least — to  the  man  who  fails.  I 
should  apply  this  truth  in  judging  of  other  men  ;  and  it  behoves  me 
not  to  shun  its  point  or  edge  in  taking  it  home  to  my  own  heart. 
Nobody  has  a  right  to  live  in  the  world  unless  he  be  strong  and 
able,  and  applies  his  ability  to  good  purpose. 

"  The  money,  dear  Hillard,  will  smooth  my  path  for  a  long  time  to 
come.  The  only  way  in  which  a  man  can  retain  his  self-respect, 
while  availing  himself  of  the  generosity  of  his  friends,  is  by  making 
it  an  incitement  to  his  utmost  exertions,  so  that  he  may  not  need 
their  help  again.  I  shall  look  upon  it  so — nor  will  shun  any 
drudgery  that  my  hand  shall  find  to  do,  if  thereby  I  may  win 
bread." 

Finally,  we  may  anticipate  a  few  years,  and  find  a 
happy  end  to  this  chapter  in  the  subjoined  letter  from  the 
Liverpool  consulate : 

"  LIVERPOOL,  Dec.  9,  1853. 

"  DEAR  HILLARD, — I  herewith  send  you  a  draft  on  Ticknor  for 
the  sum  (with  interest  included)  which  was  so  kindly  given  me  by 
unknown  friends,  through  you,  about  four  years  ago. 

"  I  have  always  hoped  and  intended  to  do  this,  from  the  first 
moment  when  I  made  up  my  mind  to  accept  the  money.  It  would 
not  have  been  right  to  speak  of  this  purpose  before  it  was  in  my 
power  to  accomplish  it ;  but  it  has  never  been  out  of  my  mind  for  a 
single  day,  nor  hardly,  I  think,  for  a  single  working  hour.  I  am 
most  happy  that  this  loan  (as  I  may  fairly  call  it,  at  this  moment) 
can  now  be  repaid  without  the  risk  on  my  part  of  leaving  my  wife 
and  children  utterly  destitute.  I  should  have  done  it  sooner  ;  but  I 
felt  that  it  would  be  selfish  to  purchase  the  great  satisfaction  for 
myself,  at  any  fresh  risk  to  them.  We  are  not  rich,  nor  are  we  ever 
likely  to  be  ;  but  the  miserable  pinch  is  over. 

' '  The  friends  who  were  so  generous  to  me  must  not  suppose  that 
I  have  not  felt  deeply  grateful,  nor  that  my  delight  at  relieving  my- 
self from  this  pecuniary  obligation  is  of  any  ungracious  kind.  I 
have  been  grateful  all  along,  and  am  more  so  now  than  ever.  This 
act  of  kindness  did  me  an  unspeakable  amount  of  good  ;  for  it  came 
when  I  most  needed  to  be  assured  that  anybody  thought  it  worth 


120  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

while  to  keep  me  from  sinking.  And  it  did  me  even  greater  good 
than  this,  in  making  me  sensible  of  the  need  of  sterner  efforts  than 
my  former  ones,  in  order  to  establish  a  right  for  myself  to  live  and 
be  comfortable.  For  it  is  my  creed  (and  was  so  even  at  that 
wretched  time)  that  a  man  has  no  claim  upon  his  fellow-creatures, 
beyond  bread  and  water,  and  a  grave,  unless  he  can  win  it  by  his 
own  strength  or  skill.  But  so  much  the  kinder  were  those  unknown 
friends  whom  I  thank  again  with  all  my  heart." 

So  did  the  last  cloud  of  a  long  dismal  day  float  into 
light. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DURING  the  first  year  of  his  Salem  surveyorship, 
as  we  have  seen,  Hawthorne  had  not  even  a  study. 
In  November,  1847,  Mrs.  Hawthorne  writes,  "My  hus- 
band began  retiring  to  his  study  on  the  ist  of  November, 
and  writes  every  afternoon."  The  year  following  was  one 
of  miserable  annoyances,  yet  in  it  grew  two  at  least  of 
those  mystical  "  rales  "  that  may  rather  be  called  poems. 
One  of  these  is  "The  Snow  Image."  In  early  life  I 
knew  a  brilliant  lady  in  Washington  who  told  me  that 
she  measured  her  guests  by  their  estimates  of  that  fable, 
and  I  did  not  wonder  when  she  afterwards  put  forth 
poetic  wings  (under  the  initials  "  H.  H.").  The  other 
tale — or  poem — to  which  I  refer  is  "The  Great  Stone 
Face."  This  seems  to  have  found  its  way  into  the  hands 
of  the  poet  Whittier,  and  was  sent  by  him  to  Dr.  Bailey, 
editor  of  The  National  Era  (Washington),  in  which  paper 
it  appeared,  Jan.  24,  1850.  It  is  rather  curious,  remem- 
bering Hawthorne's  association  with  the  party  allied  with 
slavery,  that  this  tale  should  appear  in  the  journal  which 
brought  out  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  "  Main  Street  "  was 
also  written  in  the  same  year,  and  appeared  in  Elizabeth 
Peabody's  volume  of  "^Esthetic  Papers."  There  was  a 


122  LIFE  OF 

large  demand  for  Hawthorne's  pen,  but  he  was  apt  to 
consider  his  tales  unfinished,  and  reluctant  to  print  them. 
Mr.  Williamson  lends  me  a  letter  written  by  him  from 
Salem  (Dec.  14,  1848)  to  C.  W.  Webber,  New  York, 
referring  to  some  enterprise  of  which  I  can  find  nothing 
further.  The  opening  sentence  points,  I  think,  to  "  Ethan 
Brand  :  a  Chapter  from  an  Abortive  Romance,"  which  is 
indeed  fragmentary  : x 

"At  last,"  he  says,  "by  main  strength,  I  have  wrenched  and  torn 
an  idea  out  of  my  miserable  brain ;  or  rather,  the  fragment  of  an 
idea,  like  a  tooth  ill-drawn,  and  leaving  the  roots  to  torture  me.  I 
shall  send  it  to  you  by  express  to-day  or  to-morrow.  Perhaps  you 
will  not  like  it ;  if  so,  make  no  ceremony  about  rejecting  it.  I  am 
as  tractable  an  author  as  you  ever  knew,  so  far  as  putting  my 
articles  into  the  fire  goes ;  though  I  cannot  abide  alterations  or 
omissions. 

u  I  am  ashamed,  as  a  Yankee,  and  surveyor  of  the  revenue,  to 
say  that  I  had  not  paid  proper  consideration  to  the  terms  of  pay- 
ment mentioned  in  two  of  your  letters.  I  concluded  your  first 
statement  to  be  as  liberal  as  circumstances  would  allow,  and  should 
still  think  so  if  you  did  not  yourself  tell  me  to  the  contrary. 

"When  shall  you  want  another  article?  Now  that  the  spell 
is  broken,  I  hope  to  get  into  a  regular  train  of  scribbling ;  perhaps 
not,  however,  for  I  have  many  impediments  to  struggle  against. 

"  Pray  continue  to  write  freely  to  me.  I  feel  a  real  interest  in  the 
success  of  your  enterprise." 

I  was  told  by  Mrs.  Hawthorne's  sister,  Elizabeth  Pea- 
body,  that  when,  on  that  wintry  day,  Hawthorne  returned 
so  early  from  the  Custom  House,  and  with  pale  lips  said 
to  his  wife,  "  I  am  turned  out  of  office,"  she  cheerily 

1  But  this  first  appeared,  I  believe,  in  The  Dollar  Magazine,  early 
in  1851,  and  entitled  *'  The  Unpardonable  Sin." 


HA  WTHORNE.  123 

replied,  "  Very  well !  now  you  can  write  your  book  ! " 
While  Hawthorne's  eyes  were  feasting  on  the  unsuspected 
little  pile  of  gold  she  had  saved,  the  wife  was  in  his 
study,  where  his  table  was  arranged,  and  a  fire  soon 
blazing.  The  great  man's  enemies,  little  dreaming  what 
triumph  lay  in  his  seeming  defeat,  were  speedily  for- 
gotten ;  in  their  places  stood  fair  phantoms  summoned 
for  new  life  from  a  past  whose  cruelties  the  enemies 
helped  him  to  realize. 

It  was  perfectly  understood  by  Hawthorne  what  book 
his  wife  meant.  "  The  Scarlet  Letter "  had  long  been 
taking  shape  in  him.  Many  years  before  he  found  in 
the  records  of  Boston  mention  of  a  punishment  which 
Mr.  Lathrop  now  discovers  in  an  enactment  of  Plymouth 
Colony,  in  1658  :  "  It  is  enacted  by  the  Court  and  the 
Authoritie  thereof  that  whosoever  shall  committ  Adultery 
shall  be  severly  Punished  by  whipping  two  several  times 
viz  :  once  whiles  the  Court  is  in  being  att  which  they  are 
convicted  of  the  fact,  and  the  second  time  as  the  Court 
shall  order,  and  likewise  to  were  two  Capital  letters 
viz. :  A  D  cut  out  in  cloth  and  sewed  on  their  vpermost 
garments  on  their  arme  or  backe ;  and  if  at  any  time 
they  shal  bee  taken  without  said  letters,  whiles  they  are 
in  the  Gov'ment  soe  worne,  to  be  forthwith  Taken  and 
publicly  whipt."  When  first  discovered  the  record  had 
suggested  to  Hawthorne  another  view,  as  we  find  in  the 
earlier  tale,  "  Endicott  and  the  Red  Cross  "  :  **  Sporting 
with  her  infamy,  the  lost  and  desperate  creature  had  em- 
broidered the  fatal  token  in  scarlet  cloth,  with  golden 
thread  and  the  nicest  art  of  needlework/'  But  some 
friend  of  the  author  said,  "We  shall  hear  of  that  letter 


124  LIFE  OF 

again."  Perhaps  he  had  found  Hawthorne  reflecting 
that  some  other  interpretation  might  be  put  on  the 
woman's  careful  embroidery  of  her  scarlet  brand. 

When  Hawthorne  had  advanced  towards  the  middle 
of  the  novel  an  unexpected  calamity  came  upon  him — 
the  death  of  his  mother,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly 
attached.  Afterwards  he  was  taken  ill  himself,  and  just 
as  the  money  had  given  out.  He  began  to  despond 
about  the  novel  too  ;  he  considered  that,  after  all,  it  was 
only  another  tale  such  as  he  had  previously  "scribbled," 
and,  as  a  note  in  the  work  shows,  had  actually  contem- 
plated its  publication  as  one  of  another  volume  of  Tales. 
The  completion  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  is  no  doubt 
partly  due  to  the  late  James  T.  Fields,  who,  with  the 
publisher's  shrewdness,  combined  the  insight  of  a  literary 
man.  Among  Mr.  Fields'  "Yesterdays  with  Authors," 
none  shines  more  brightly  than  that  which  carried  him 
to  Salem,  in  the  winter  of  1849,  an(^  UP  mto  tne  study, 
where  he  found  Hawthorne  hovering  over  a  stove. 
"  Now,"  cried  Fields,  "  it  is  time  for  you  to  publish  ;  for 
I  know  during  these  years  in  Salem  you  must  have  got 
something  ready  for  the  press."  "Nonsense,"  says  Haw- 
thorne ;  "  what  heart  had  I  to  write  anything  when  my 
publishers  have  been  so  many  years  trying  to  sell  a  small 
edition  of  the  'Twice-told  Tales'?"  And  to  further 
pressure,  "  Who,"  he  asks,  "  would  risk  publishing  a  book 
from  me,  the  most  unpopular  writer  in  America  ?  "  "I 
would,"  returns  Fields,  who,  as  he  rises  to  go,  catches 
sight  of  some  drawers  and  affirms  positively  that  they 
contain  stories.  Hawthorne  shakes  his  head,  but,  when 
Fields  is  on  his  way  downstairs,  follows  him  with  a  roll 


HA  WTHORNE.  125 

of  manuscript.  "  As  you  have  found  me  out,  take  what 
I  have  written,  and  tell  me  if  it  is  good  for  anything." 
Before  Fields  slept  that  night  he  had  read  the  germ  of 
"The  Scarlet  Letter,"  and  had  written  to  Hawthorne 
his  admiration  of  it.  He  had  said  in  their  interview 
that  he  would  begin  with  an  edition  of  2,000  copies  of 
anything  Hawthorne  might  write ;  but  this  novel  would 
require  5,000  at  once.  Hawthorne  took  courage,  and 
by  February  3rd  had  completed  the  story.  He  read  the 
conclusion  to  his  wife,  and  "it  broke  her  heart  and  sent 
her  to  bed  with  a  grievous  headache."  Yet,  despite  this 
"triumphant  success,"  he  could  not  believe  that  any 
writing  of  his  would  touch  the  public  heart.  "  My  dear 
Fields,"  he  writes  (the  letter,  lent  me  by  Mr.  Williamson, 
is  dated  March  7,  1850)  :  "I  pray  Heaven  the  book  may 
be  a  quarter  part  as  successful  as  you  prophesy.  Never- 
theless, I  don't  expect  even  this  small  modicum  of  luck. 
It  is  not  in  my  cards."  But  the  prophecy  was  more 
than  fulfilled.  The  first  edition  (5,000  copies)  was  at 
once  sold,  and  the  reprint  in  England  was  nearly  as 
successful — for  its  publishers. 

Among  the  minor  results  of  the  splendid  success  of 
"  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  it  may  be  mentioned  that  Salem 
waked  up  to  a  perception  that  it  had  been  entertaining 
(or  the  reverse)  a  great  man  unawares.  Not  that  it  had 
any  reason  to  think  him  an  angel,  for  in  his  introduction 
Hawthorne  had  painted  portraits  of  some  of  those  by 
whom  he  had  been  surrounded,  without  any  particular 
tenderness,  though  certainly  without  vindictiveness. 
Hawthorne  was  well  aware  of  the  echoes  that  would 
come  from  Salem  if  his  book  should  be  read  there. 


126  LIFE  OF 

"Touching  the  advance  sheets  for  the  Literary  World" 
he  writes  Fields,  in  this  letter  of  March  7th,  "I  think  it  would 
be  well  to  give  them  ;  but  I  hesitate  about  that  particular  pas- 
sage. I  shall  catch  it  pretty  smartly  from  my  ill-wishers  here  in 
Salem,  on  the  score  of  this  old  Inspector ;  and  though  I  care 
little  for  that,  yet  it  may  be  as  well  not  to  bring  his  character 
out  in  the  alto  relievo  of  a  preliminary  extract.  How  would  it  do 
to  take  the  character  of  General  Miller  ?  I  don't  think  it  would  be 
advisable  to  give  anything  from  the  story  itself,  because  I  know  of 
no  passage  that  would  not  throw  too  much  light  on  the  plot  of 
the  book.  The  whole  introduction  might  be  sent  to  Duyckinck 
with  a  veto  only  on  that  one  passage. " 

So  the  book  came  out  in  its  integrity.  The  old 
Inspector  was  dead,  and  Hawthorne  may  not  have  known 
that  he  had  left  two  daughters.  He  is  unable  to  resist 
the  temptation  to  put  him  into  a  picture  of  the  Customs 
interior.  There  was  a  certain  public  justice,  perhaps,  in 
portraying  a  specimen  of  the  people  protected  by  all 
administrations  while  the  competent  were  decapitated. 
It  is  done  with  as  full  freedom  from  personal  animosity  as 
ever  animated  Teniers  in  painting  a  merry  boor  in  his  beer- 
house. Hawthorne  plainly  prizes  his  model.  Yet  I  cannot 
help  feeling  that  the  pages  on  the  Inspector  fall  beneath 
Hawthorne's  art,  and  that  a  humorous  sentence  or  two 
would  have  sufficed.  With  one  or  two  duly  marked 
exceptions,  however,  it  is  clear  that  the  officials  of  the 
Custom  House  had  by  no  means  shown  themselves  in 
possession  of  such  competency  or  character  as  to  deserve 
that  any  veil  should  be  left  over  the  kind  of  institution 
produced  in  every  part  of  the  country  by  the  system 
of  using  the  Civil  Service  to  reward  party  service.  This 
introduction  was  the  earliest  exposure  of  the  vicious 


HA  WTHORNE.  127 

"spoils"  system  with  which  Civil  Service  reformers — 
under  the  lead  of  Hawthorne's  friend,  George  W.  Curtis 
— are  no\v  occupied;  but  which,  as  I  think,  they  will 
find  to  be  rooted  as  deeply  as  the  birthmark  in  one 
of  our  author's  tales.  When  it  disappears  the  pre- 
sidential monarchy  will  disappear  with  it. 

It  was  a  terrible  sentence  that  Salem,  which  supplied  him 
no  defender,  now  heard  from  the  man  whom  it  presently 
recognized  as  its  greatest  son — the  flower  of  all  its  history. 
''My  good  townspeople  will  not  much  regret  me;  for, 
though  it  has  been  as  dear  an  object  as  any,  in  my 
literary  efforts,  to  be  of  some  importance  in  their  eyes, 
and  to  win  myself  a  pleasant  memory  in  this  abode  and 
burial-place  of  so  many  of  my  forefathers,  there  has 
never  been,  for  me,  the  genial  atmosphere  which  a 
literary  man  requires,  in  order  to  ripen  the  best  harvest 
of  his  mind.  I  shall  do  better  amongst  other  faces ;  and 
these  familiar  ones,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  will  do  just 
as  well  without  me.  It  may  be,  however — oh,  trans- 
porting and  triumphant  thought ! — that  the  great-grand- 
children of  the  present  race  may  sometimes  think  kindly 
of  the  scribbler  of  bygone  days,  when  the  antiquary  of 
days  to  come,  among  the  sites  memorable  in  the  town's 
history,  shall  point  out  the  locality  of  THE  TOWN 
PUMP ! " * 

1  "The  site  of  my  town  pump,"  writes  Hawthorne  in  1858,  "so 
plainly  indicated  in  the  sketch  itself,  has  already  been  mistaken  in 
the  City  council  and  in  the  public  prints."  His  pride  in  this  old 
sketch  of  his  is  amusing  ;  it  is  the  only  one  he  ever  gloried  in.  He 
remembers  it  beside  Boccaccio's  well  at  Arezzo.  "  A  thousand  and 
a  thousand  people  had  pumped  there,  merely  to  water  oxen  or  fill 
their  tea-kettles,  but  when  once  I  grasped  the  handle,  a  rill  gushed 


128  LIFE  OF 

Not  merely  the  Town  Pump,  but  every  object  referred 
to   in  Hawthorne's  tales,  was  treasured  by   those  who 
read  this  pathetic  passage — recognition  not   being  left 
even  to  their  children.     Before  Hawthorne  died  three 
houses  in  his  native  town  were  competing  for  the  honour 
of  being  his  "  House  of  the  Seven  Gables."     Nay,  there 
were  hundreds  who,  when  they  read  the  introduction  to 
"The  Scarlet  Letter,"  and  learned  that  the  author  had 
been  pelted  with  calumnies  without  finding  a  defender 
in  his  native  town,  would  have  rushed  to  the  Mall  Street 
house  and  clasped  his  feet.     But  it  was  too  late.     Haw- 
thorne had  lingered  in  Salem  only  for  his  mother's  sake ; 
she  being  dead,  he  had  left  the  place  for  ever.     (But  all 
hard  feelings  died  away.     In  1860   Hawthorne  contri- 
buted to  "  Weal-Reaf,"  printed  in  Salem  for  benefit  of  a 
Fair,  a  characteristic  letter  on  a  "  haunted  "  house  of  the 
neighbourhood, — where  some  boys  were  once  frightened 
by  ghosts — in  a  closet  they  opened — which  proved  to 
be  old  portraits.)     "  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  is  epical  in  its 
expression  of  the  moral  history  of  New  England.     It  has 
been  made  into  an  opera  in  Europe,  and  dramatised  in 
America,  but  if  acted  in  Massachusetts  it  would  produce 
the  effect  of  a  Passion  Play.     Its  success  was  largely  due 
to  its  harmony  with  scriptural  themes  which,  by  a  sort  of 
survival  of  the  Leviticalest,  have  become  part  of  the  very 

forth  that  meandered  as  far  as  England — as  far  as  India — besides 
tasting  pleasantly  in  every  town  and  village  of  our  own  country.  I 
like  to  think  of  this,  so  long  after  I  did  it,  and  so  far  from  home, 
and  am  not  without  hopes  of  some  kindly  local  remembrance  on 
that  score."  The  sketch  was  published  in  London  (1857)  as  a 
temperance  tract. 


HA  WTHORNE.  129- 

tissues  of  the  New  England  man.  Hester  Prynne's 
scarlet  mark  is  the  brand  of  Cain  over  again.  As  one 
may  hear  on  any  Sunday,  from  pulpit  expounders  of 
the  fratricide's  brand,  Hester's  mark  "  had  the  effect  of 
a  spell,  taking  her  out  of  the  ordinary  relations  with 
humanity ; "  and  what  other  interpretation  would  the 
sound  theologian  put  on  the  protection  of  Cain's  life  by 
his  mark  than  that  suggested  by  Hester's  husband : 
"  Even  if  I  imagine  a  scheme  of  vengeance,  what  could 
I  do  better  for  my  object  than  to  let  thee  live,  so  that 
this  burning  shame  may  still  blaze  upon  thy  bosom  ?  "  * 
Touching  thus  chords  which  had  vibrated  in  every  breast 
for  centuries,  "  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  would  have  proved 
effective  and  successful  even  had  it  been  less  artistic. 
But  how  fine  is  its  art  appears  in  the  pretty  general 
belief  that  Hawthorne  actually  found  an  embroidered 
letter  in  the  Salem  Custom  House.  How  else  could  he 
offer  to  show  it  to  any  one  who  might  desire  to  see  this 
"most  curious  relic"?  The  letter  and  the  old  MS., 
which  he  contemplates  depositing  with  the  Essex 
Historical  Society,  are,  of  course,  purely  fictitious.  The 
book  is  also  daring  in  its  disregard  of  the  ethical  survi- 
vals. This  is  the  more  remarkable  because  Hawthorne 
was  himself  a  purist  with  regard  to  sexual  morality.  He 
once  told  the  present  writer  that  he  did  not  meet  a  certain 
author  in  London  because  of  her  irregular  marriage.  In 
re-reading  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  however,  I  have  had 

1  It  is  notable  that  another  novel,  which  has  a  place  beside 
"The  Scarlet  Letter,"  as  an  American  classic  work,  is  also  a 
scriptural  travesty — "  Elsie  Venner,"  in  which  the  hereditary  Fall, 
through  the  serpent,  is  rationalized. 

9 


130  LIFE  OF 

misgivings  that  I  may  have  misunderstood  him,  for  he 
has  here  made  one  such  woman  into  the  only  noble, 
pure,  and  lovable  character  in  his  book.  Beside  stolid 
Respectability,  and  Priestcraft  cruel  and  cowardly,  she 
shines  like  a  star.  Nor  is  her  exaltation  that  of  a  peni- 
tent Magdalen.  "What  we  did  had  a  consecration  of 
its  own,"  she  says  to  her  reverend  lover,  with  whom  she 
would  fain  seek  to  recover  happiness  in  a  distant  land. 
And  finally  the  lives  of  herself  and  her  daughter,  instead 
of  illustrating  retributive  "justice,"  end  happily  Haw- 
thorne may  not  have  intended  any  such  general  impres- 
sion as  that  just  given;  indeed,  there  are  sentences 
thrown  in  here  and  there  which  look  as  if  he  had  become 
conscious,  during  revision,  that  some  caveat  was  needed. 
It  appears  to  me  plain  that  Hawthorne  threw  his  intellect 
unreservedly  into  this  work,  that  his  characters  were 
created  organically,  without  the  slightest  reference  to 
conventional  estimates  or  religious  prejudices.  Perhaps, 
in  his  long  absence  from  church,  and  his  excursions 
among  the  so-called  "  come-outers "  (i.e.,  from  existing 
society)  of  Brook  Farm  and  Concord,  he  had  even 
forgotten  what  the  standards  of  soundness  were.  The 
Church  Review  reminded  him  of  them  sharply,  and 
asked,  "  Is  the  French  era  actually  begun  in  our  litera- 
ture ?  "  The  "  orthodox  "  were  particularly  scandalized 
by  a  sympathetic  review,  in  The  Massachusetts  Quarterly 
(edited  by  Theodore  Parker),  Sept.  1850,  from  the  pen 
of  Dr.  George  B.  Loring.  Mr.  Lathrop  finds  it  still 
necessary  to  insist  that  Hawthorne  cannot  be  held 
responsible  for  the  utterances  of  his  characters,  and 
points  out  sentences  in  which  their  moral  delusions  are 


HA  WTHORNE.  131 

rebuked.  But  the  clerical  instinct  told  true,  however 
confused  its  comments.  Here  was  a  story  that  did  not 
preach.  It  had  neither  moral  nor  immoral  object.  It 
was  a  calm — almost  cold — history  of  a  situation  hap- 
pening amid  the  moral  and  religious  conditions  and 
institutions  of  New  England.  The  events  happened  so, 
and  the  characters  acted  as  they  must ;  if  the  happenings 
and  the  actings  are  not  such  as  might  point  the  pulpit's 
moral,  or  adorn  the  Sunday-school  tale,  the  historian 
cannot  help  it.  It  is  largely  this  remorseless — though 
sometimes  apparently  reluctant — veracity  which  makes 
the  story  thrilling. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  it  should  have  sent  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  to  bed  with  a  grievous  headache.  But  this 
may  partly  be  because  it  seals  up  the  fountain  of  tears. 
Pathetic  as  is  the  theme,  there  is  hardly  a  pathetic 
passage  in  the  story.  It  excites  pity,  sometimes  anger, 
but  it  is  against  impersonal  laws,  moving  by  necessity, 
like  glaciers.  There  is  a  masterly  dissection  of  typical 
hearts,  at  which  we  seem  to  assist,  like  the  students 
around  their  master  in  Rembrandt's  picture  of  the 
dissecting-room.  It  would  be  intolerable  were  it  vivi- 
section ;  but  we  feel  at  every  moment  that  the  system 
out  of  which  such  a  tragedy  could  arise  is  dead.  Hester 
Prynne  is  its  last  victim,  and  we  now  see  her  turned  by 
a  wondering  generation  into  a  martyr. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AS  one  may  infer,  from  the  exquisite  vesture  in  which 
his  thoughts  are  dressed,  Hawthorne  was  very  dainty 
in  aesthetic  tastes.  His  children  must  have  pretty  names 
—Una,  Julian,  Rose — which  happily  suited  them  well. 
This  master  of  mystery  and  gloom  did  not  like  that  his 
wife  or  daughters  should  wear  dark  stuffs.  He  had  the 
Hindu's  sentiment,  that  if  the  women  of  a  house  are 
beautifully  arrayed  the  whole  house  is  decorated. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  the  wife's  dream  that  her  husband 
should  dwell  in  a  beautiful  home.  With  her  artistic 
accomplishments  but  little  outlay  was  needed  for  this ; 
and  when,  in  the  summer  of  1850,  the  family,  Salem 
dust  shaken  from  their  feet,  removed  to  Lenox,  Massa- 
chusetts, the  first  moneys  from  "The  Scarlet  Letter" 
were  devoted  to  the  decorations  of  the  home  interior. 
The  house  was  small,  of  such  deep  red  brick  that 
Hawthorne  called  it  the  "Scarlet  Letter/'  and  Hester 
Prynne  never  embroidered  her  badge  more  carefully 
than  this  home  was  adorned.  It  was  also  adorned  with 
friends.  Lenox  was  then  a  unique  place.  Mrs.  Sedg- 
wick  had  opened  there  an  excellent  school  for  young 
ladies,  and  the  beauty  of  the  region — its  hills,  dales,  lake. 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  133 

woods — had  attracted  pleasant  families,  who  had  built 
there  summer  villas.  Among  the  notable  figures  of  the 
vicinity  were  Fanny  Kemble,  Herman  Melville,  and  G. 
P.  R.  James.  In  that  first  summer  (1850)  literary  men 
swarmed  there  on  visits — Holmes,  Lowell,  Whipple, 
Duyckinck,  Headley,  Fields  and  his  wife.  Hawthorne 
joined  in  their  excursions,  for  he  did  not  write  much 
in  summer.  Oftener  he  rambled  with  his  children,  and 
made  acquaintance  with  the  bees  and  humming-birds 
and  chickens — the  latter  making  an  important  part  of 
the  family.  When  autumn  came,  all  these  were  sum- 
moned into  his  study  and  transferred  by  his  art  to  the 
legendary  garden  of  "The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables." 

In  this  romance  (finished  January  26,  1851)  we  find 
Hawthorne  intellectually  enriched  by  severe  experiences. 
It  is  founded  on  the  traditional  "  curse  "  hurled  on  the 
Hawthorne  family  by  the  "wizard"  executed  by  sentence 
of  their  magisterial  ancestor ;  but  whereas,  in  "  The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  this  is  alluded  to  in  a  way  suggestive  of 
superstition  in  the  author,  it  is  here  rationalized.  "  Under 
those  seven  gables,  at  which  we  now  look  up  ...  through 
a  portion  of  three  centuries,  there  has  been  perpetual 
remorse  of  conscience,  a  constantly  defeated  hope,  strife 
amongst  kindred,  various  misery,  a  strange  form  of  death, 
dark  suspicion,  unspeakable  disgrace;  all,  or  most  of 
which  calamity,  I  have  the  means  of  tracing  to  the  old 
Puritan's  desire  to  plant  and  endow  a  family."  He 
can  now,  in  his  happy  home,  even  smile  at  poor  Hepzi- 
bah's  satisfaction  in  "the  sombre  dignity  of  an  inherited 
curse." 

For  the  rest,  I  cannot  see  with  some  others  any  great 


134  LIFE  OF 

originality  in  Hawthorne's  delineation  of  the  hypocritical 
Judge  Pyncheon.  I  have  heard  that  there  used  to  be 
a  cruel  daguerreotype  of  Mr.  Upham,  a  handsome  man, 
in  a  Salem  shop  window,  and  possibly  this  may  have 
suggested  one  incident  in  the  tale  (unless  the  incident 
suggested  the  daguerreotype  story  !).  But  there  was 
nothing  in  Mr.  Upham's  career  resembling  anything  in 
that  of  Judge  Pyncheon.  The  Judge  appears  to  me  an 
unrealistic  stage-villain,  acting  "  as  it  is  written "  in 
the  legend.  Nor  does  heroine  Phoebe — charming  and 
satisfactory  as  she  is — seem  a  particularly  unique  crea- 
tion. The  miracles  of  the  book  are  the  gradual  effort 
of  the  prisoner — so  long  buried  alive — to  recover  his 
lost  youth  and  happiness,  and  the  loyal  devotion  of 
gaunt  Hepzibah  to  this  brother,  even  to  the  withdrawal 
of  her  marred  visage,  which  he  dislikes  to  look  upon. 
When  the  late  Bronson  Alcott — a  transcendental  dreamer 
at  Concord  in  Hawthorne's  time — became  aged  and 
feeble-minded,  he  was  amused  with  pictures,  but  if 
any  wild  beast  appeared  in  these  he  began  to  weep. 
Long  before  this,  Hawthorne  wrote  of  enfeebled  Clifford, 
looking  at  the  organ-grinder's  monkey,  that  "  he  was 
so  shocked  by  his  horrible  ugliness,  spiritual  as  well  as 
physical,  that  he  actually  began  to  shed  tears."  In  all 
the  detail  work  of  this  romance  the  reader  feels  that  he 
is  receiving  actual  impressions  and  experiences. 

Hawthorne  was  overwhelmed  with  letters  about  "  The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  and  the  "  House  of  the  Seven  Gables." 
"I  receive,"  he  writes  to  his  sister  Louisa,  "very  com- 
plimentary letters  from  poets  and  prosers,  and  adoring 
ones  from  young  ladies ;  and  I  have  almost  a  challenge 


HA  WTHORNE.  135 

from  a  gentleman  who  complains  of  me  for  intro- 
ducing his  grandfather,  Judge  Pyncheon.  It  seems 
there  was  really  a  Pyncheon  family  formerly  resident  in 
Salem,  and  one  of  them  bore  the  title  of  Judge,  and 
was  a  Tory  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution — with  which 
facts  I  was  entirely  unacquainted.  I  pacified  the  gentle- 
man by  a  letter."  The  real  Judge  Pyncheon  was  a 
worthy  gentleman,  and  it  was  rather  imprudent  in  Haw- 
thorne to  take  old  names  from  the  annals  of  Salem,  as 
he  did  also  in  the  case  of  Maule. 

The  success  of  the  novel  was  even  greater  than  that 
of  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  from  the  publisher's  point  of 
view.  Fields  lustily  cried,  "  More  !  "  Hawthorne  had 
grown  so  hopeless  about  his  later  tales  that  he  had  not 
even  preserved  copies  of  them,  but  fortunately  his  sisters 
had  been  more  careful ;  by  their  assistance  was  formed 
the  collection  afterwards  (1852)  published  under  title 
of  "  The  Snow  Image,  and  other  Twice-told  Tales." 

Meanwhile,  however,  he  had  written  (1851)  "A 
Wonder  Book  for  Boys  and  Girls,"  which,  in  Frederick 
Warne  and  Co.'s  "  Chandos  Classics,"  appears  with  a. 
later  volume  "  Tanglewood  Tales"  (1853),  and  under 
the  latter  title.  In  March,  1853  ("  Am.  Note  Books," 
ii.  p.  154),  he  speaks  of  his  "former  plan  of  writing  one 
or  two  mythological  story-books,"  and  no  doubt  these 
stories  had  for  some  time  been  on  his  anvil.  Of  these 
works  Mr.  Henry  James,  jun.,  says,  "  I  have  been  careful 
not  to  read  them  over,  for  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  risk 
disturbing  in  any  degree  a  recollection  of  them  that  has 
been  at  rest  since  the  appreciative  period  of  life  to 
which  they  are  addressed.  They  seem  at  that  period 


136  LIFE  OF 

enchanting."  More  adventurous  than  my  friend,  I  have 
just  read  the  stories  again.  Emerson  used  to  insist 
on  inviting  to  our  picnics  at  Concord,  "all  children 
from  six  years  to  sixty;"  and  Hawthorne  contemplates 
a  similar  company.  When  he  read  these  stories  at 
Tanglewood,  Lenox,  or  at  Wayside,  Concord,  he  did  not 
fail  to  provide  tit-bits  for  the  grown-up  children  who 
were  sure  to  be  present.  The  scheme  of  this  treatment 
of  familiar  Greek  myths — Medusa,  Midas,  Circe,  &c.— 
possesses  a  certain  interest  for  the  comparative  myth- 
ologist,  as  being  a  continuation  of  the  process  of 
adaptation  by  which  was  secured  the  migration  of 
Oriental  fables.  The  "  Tanglewood  Tale  "  is  a  moralized 
version  of  the  Greek  myth  in  the  same  way  that  "  Whit- 
tington  and  his  Cat "  is  a  moralized  version  of  "  Puss-in- 
boots,"  but  it  is  not  similarly  rationalized.  Indeed, 
the  original  marvels  are  sometimes  enhanced  —  the 
giants  made  bigger,  the  pygmies  smaller — and  there  is 
not  a  suggestion  of  any  "  solar "  or  other  theory  of 
mythology.  "  No  epoch  of  time  can  claim  a  copyright 
in  these  immortal  fables,"  says  the  preface.  "They 
seem  never  to  have  been  made ;  and  certainly,  so  long 
as  man  exists,  they  can  never  perish ;  but  by  their 
indestructibility  itself  they  are  legitimate  subjects  for 
every  age  to  clothe  with  its  own  garniture  of  manners 
and  sentiment,  and  to  imbue  with  its  own  morality." 
The  success  is  normal  but  not  invariable.  The  children 
with  poetic  pseudonyms — Primrose,  Sweet  Fern,  and 
the  rest — on  hearing  the  story-telling  college-student  tell 
how  Hercules  laughed  at  the  pygmies,  and  slew  their 
good-natured  giant  friend,  Antaeus — must  have  thought 


HA  WTHORNE.  137 

the  demigod  a  very  unamiable  character  in  his  treatment 
of  little  people  and  big.  This,  however,  is  the  only 
instance  in  which  the  Tanglewood  Homer  has  nodded 
to  the  extent  of  following  the  ancient  dream  instead  of 
Yankee  sentiment.  Hawthorne  speaks  of  this  as  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  literary  tasks  he  ever  undertook. 
The  work  has  charms  of  local  colour.  "  There  was," 
writes  his  son,  "a  long  declivity  towards  Tanglewood 
and  the  lake;  and,  in  winter,  Hawthorne  and  the 
children  used  to  seat  themselves  one  behind  another 
upon  the  big  sled,  and  go  down  in  headlong  career 
through  the  snowdrifts,  as  is  related  in  the  "  Wonder 
Book "  of  Eustace  Bright  and  his  little  people.  Even 
the  collision  with  the  stump,  hidden  beneath  the  snow, 
actually  happened  precisely  as  set  down  in  the  book,  as 
well  as  many  other  humorous  and  delightful  episodes." 
The  introduction  to  "  Tanglewood  Tales  "  is  entitled 
"  The  Wayside  " — name  still  borne  by  the  house  in 
Concord  where  the  Hawthornes  resided  in  1853.  Here 
he  led  his  mythical  college-student,  Eustace  Bright,  to 
a  summer-house  on  the  hillside,  built  by  his  predecessor. 
"  It  is  a  mere  skeleton  of  slender,  decaying  tree-trunks, 
with  neither  walls  nor  a  roof — nothing  but  a  tracery  of 
branches  and  twigs,  which  the  next  wintry  blast  will  be 
very  likely  to  scatter  in  fragments  along  the  terrace.  It 
looks  and  is  as  evanescent  as  a  dream ;  and  yet,  in 
its  rustic  network  of  boughs,  it  has  somehow  enclosed 
a  hint  of  spiritual  beauty,  and  has  become  a  true  emblem 
of  the  subtle  and  etherial  mind  that  planned  it."  This 
was  the  late  A.  Bronson  Alcott,  who  built  a  similar 
bower  near  Emerson's  house,  where  midsummer  story- 


138  LIFE  OF 

telling  became  an  institution.  In  it  the  present  writer 
passed  many  a  happy  hour  of  that  same  year's  summer 
with  the  children, — each  of  us  in  bond  for  a  tale.  It 
is  not  the  least  value  of  his  books  for  children  that  in 
them  is  unconsciously  revealed  Hawthorne's  great  love 
for  children.  The  same  is  remembered  of  his  gloomy 
seafaring  father.  On  one  occasion  some  ladies  of  Con- 
cord prepared  a  picnic  in  Emerson's  grounds  for  children, 
the  only  man  admitted  being  Hawthorne,  who  so  desired 
to  see  the  little  people  at  play  that  a  hiding-place  was 
found  for  him  near  by.  His  own  home  was  a  "  Paradise 
for  Children," — as  he  calls  his  beautiful  story  of  Pandora 
— and  never  more  so  than  in  the  year  when,  after  so 
many  troubles,  Hope  emerged  from  the  box  and  become 
a  guest  in  his  house. 

In  the  happiest  spring  that  Hawthorne's  life  had 
known  since  he  left  the  Old  Manse — that  of  1851 — 
his  third  and  last  child  was  born,  and  named  Rose. 
On  May  25th  he  writes  to  his  wife's  sister,  Elizabeth, 
of  his  hope  that  his  life  may  be  the  means  of  providing 
more  for  his  family  than  his  death,  even  were  his  life 
insured,  and  adds  : 

"  Sophia  and  the  baby  are  getting  on  bravely.  She  gazes  at  it 
all  day  long,  and  continually  discovers  new  beauties.  As  for  me, 
who  look  at  it  perhaps  a  half-dozen  times  a  day,  I  must  confess 
that  I  have  not  yet  discovered  the  first  beauty.  But  I  think  I 
never  have  had  any  natural  partiality  for  my  children.  I  love  them 
according  to  their  deserts — they  have  to  prove  their  claim  to  all 
the  affection  they  get  ;  and  I  believe  I  could  love  other  people's 
children  better  than  mine,  if  I  felt  that  they  deserved  it  more. 
Perhaps,  however,  I  should  not  be  quite  a  fair  judge  on  which 
side  the  merit  lay.  It  does  seem  to  me,  moreover,  that  I  feel 


HA  WTHORNE.  139 

a  more  decided  drawing  of  the  heart  towards  this  baby  than  either 
of  the  other  two,  at  their  first  appearance.  This  is  my  last  and 
latest,  my  autumnal  flower,  and  will  be  still  in  her  gayest  bloom 
when  I  shall  be  most  decidedly  an  old  man — the  daughter  of  my 
age,  if  age  and  decrepitude  are  really  to  be  my  lot.  But,  if  it  were 
not  for  the  considerations  in  the  first  part  of  my  letter,  I  should 
wish  this  scribbling  hand  to  be  dust  ere  then. " 

In  the  Italian  journals  we  catch  pleasant  glimpses  of 
"Rosebud" — as  he  used  to  call  her — blooming  beside 
her  father  amid  the  ruins  of  Rome, 

Yes,  Hope  had  become  a  guest  in  the  pretty  home  at 
Lenox,  but,  alas,  she  seemed  to  make  little  headway 
against  the  cares  that  had  escaped  from  Pandora's  box. 
Notwithstanding  the  brilliant  siicces  d'estime  of '"The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  and  the  five  thousand  copies  sold, 
Hawthorne's  circumstances  were  straitened.  In  the  letter 
last  quoted,  concerning  his  new-born  Rose,  he  says  : 

"  The  subject  of  Life  Insurance  is  not  new  to  me.  I  have 
thought,  read,  and  conversed  about  it  long  ago,  and  have  a  pamphlet, 
treating  of  its  modes  and  advantages,  in  the  house.  I  know  that  it 
is  an  excellent  thing  in  some  circumstances — that  is,  for  persons  with 
a  regular  income,  who  have  a  surplus,  and  can  calculate  precisely 
what  it  will  be.  But  I  have  never  yet  seen  the  year,  since  I  was 
married,  when  I  could  have  spared  even  a  hundred  dollars  from  the 
necessary  expense  of  living.  If  I  can  spare  it  this  year,  it  is  more 
than  I  yet  know  ;  and  if  this  year,  then  probably  it  would  be  wanted 
the  ensuing  year.  Then  our  expenditure  must  positively  increase 
with  the  growth  of  our  children  and  the  cost  of  their  education.  I 
say  nothing  of  myself — nothing  of  Sophia — since  it  is  probably  our 
duty  to  sacrifice  all  the  green  margin  of  our  lives  to  these  children, 
whom  we  have  seen  fit  to  bring  into  the  world.  In  short,  there  is 
no  use  in  attempting  to  put  the  volume  of  my  convictions  on  paper. 
I  should  have  insured  my  life,  years  since,  if  I  had  not  seen  that  it 
is  not  the  thing  for  a  man,  situated  like  myself,  to  do,  unless  I  could 


140  LIFE  OF 

have  a  reasonable  certainty  of  dying  within  a  year  or  two.  We 
must  take  our  chance,  or  our  dispensation  of  Providence.  If  I  die 
soon,  my  copyrights  will  be  worth  something,  and  might— by  the 
exertions  of  friends,  who  undoubtedly  would  exert  themselves — be 
made  more  available  than  they  have  yet  been.  If  I  live  some  years 
I  shall  be  as  industrious  as  I  may,  consistently  with  keeping  my 
faculties  in  good  order  ;  and  not  impossibly  I  may  thus  provide  for 
Sophia  and  the  children." 

In  the  latter  part  of  November,  1851,  Hawthorne  took 
up  his  temporary  abode  at  West  Newton,  which  then 
had  little  promise  of  the  pretty  villas  which  now  adorn 
it.  It  was  the  residence  of  his  wife's  parents,  and  of  the 
Hon.  Horace  Mann,  who  married  her  sister ;  and  for 
the  rest  the  prosaic  character  of  this  suburb  of  Boston 
was  rather  attractive.  For  Hawthorne  was  anxious  for 
some  solitude  in  which  he  could  revive  the  impressions 
of  Brook  Farm — which,  by  the  by,  is  not  far  from  West 
Newton.  Here,  then,  was  written  "The  Blithedale 
Romance."  Of  this  work  I  have  already  spoken,  and 
cannot  dwell  on  it  here.  It  is  wonderful  that  the  pen 
that  wrote  the  other  romances  should  also  have  written 
this.  What  worldly  wit,  what  life  studies,  and  subtlety 
of  suggestion  !  Not  only  is  every  character  alive,  but 
the  very  language  in  which  each  is  incarnate.  When 
Brook  Farm  had  broken  up,  these  "  Blithedale "  men 
and  women  were  met  in  every  street,  so  that  it  was 
absurd  to  identify  one  or  another  as  his  model.  Of 
course  it  was  Margaret  Fuller's  fate  to  be  Zenobia, 
though  she  was  homely  and  Zenobia  beautiful,  and 
without  the  warm  voluptuous  aura  of  Zenobia  ;  but  what 
other  woman  of  such  commanding  power  was  there  at 
Brook  Farm?  The  theory-blinded  Hollingsworth  be- 


HA  WTHORNE.  141 

came  the  many-headed  reader  of  the  romance ;  all  the 
heads,  duly  self-fitted  with  Hawthorne's  caps,  resented 
his  "  personal  allusions. "  They  never  knew  what  tributes 
they  were  paying  to  the  insight  of  the  artist  who  was 
least  servile  to  visible  models,  and  painted  souls  under 
whatever  disguises — conscious  or  unconscious. 

In  the  summer  of  1852,  Hawthorne  purchased  Bronson 
Alcott's  house  at  Concord,  "Hillside,"  and  re-christened 
it,  more  accurately,  "Wayside."  This  was  the  first 
homestead  Hawthorne  had  owned.  It  was  an  humble 
frame  dwelling,  yet  not  without  beauty — chiefly  of  little 
verandas  added  by  Alcott,  who  had  also  built  (in  this 
case  with  his  own  hands)  the  hillside  summer  bower 
where  the  collegian  is  supposed  to  tell  his  Tanglewood 
Tales.  On  July  14,  1852,  Hawthorne  writes  cheerily  to 
his  friend,  George  W.  Curtis,  then  in  Europe  : 

"  The  hillside  is  covered  chiefly  with  locust-trees  which  come  into- 
luxuriant  blossom  in  the  month  of  June,  and  look  and  smell  very 
sweetly,  intermixed  with  a  few  young  elms,  and  white  pines  and 
infant  oaks — the  whole  forming  rather  a  thicket  than  a  wood. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  some  very  good  shade  to  be  found  there.  I 
spend  delectable  hours  there  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  stretched 
out  at  my  lazy  length,  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  or  some  unwritten 
book  in  my  thoughts.  ...  In  front  of  the  house,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road,  I  have  eight  acres  of  land.  .  .  .  On  the  hither  side 
my  territory  extends  some  little  distance  over  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
and  is  absolutely  good  for  nothing,  in  a  productive  point  of  view, 
though  very  good  for  many  other  purposes.  I  know  nothing  of  the 
history  of  the  house,  except  Thoreau's  telling  me  that  it  was  in- 
habited a  generation  or  two  ago  by  a  man  who  believed  he  should 
never  die." 

The  author  whose  imagination  had  already  dealt  with 


142  LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE. 

the  Wandering  Jew,  turning  him  into  a  Virtuoso,  had 
thus  come  to  one  of  his  latest  haunts.  Even  his  pre- 
decessor there,  Mr.  Alcott,  used  to  regard  it  as  a  mistake 
to  die  so  soon  :  he  was  born  with  this  century,  and  told 
the  present  writer  that  he  meant  to  see  the  century  out 
— which  perhaps  he  might  have  done  had  not  his 
faculties  failed  by  extreme  age.  There  were  thus  asso- 
ciations enough  to  make  the  would-be  immortal  "  Septi- 
mius  Felton  "  an  "  unwritten  book  in  his  thoughts." 

But  meanwhile  the  fact  of  mortality  was  brought 
home  to  the  hillside  dreamer  in  a  terrible  way.  His 
sister  Louisa,  leaping  from  a  burning  steamer  on  the 
Hudson,  was  drowned. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  tragical  death  of  his  sister  (July  27,  1852) 
affected  Hawthorne  greatly,  and  he  was  in  the 
frame  of  mind  for  any  absorbing  task,  when  one  was 
offered  that  also  promised  to  be  lucrative — a  considera- 
tion which  the  depressing  state  of  his  finances  would  not 
suffer  to  be  omitted.  In  an  evil  hour  his  college  friend, 
Franklin  Pierce,  having  become  candidate  for  the  pre- 
sidency, appealed  to  his  pen  for  a  "campaign  biography." 
Hawthorne  reluctantly  undertook  the  task,  on  which  an 
admirer  of  his  can  now  hardly  look  with  satisfaction, 
whatever  he  may  think  of  contemporary  party  explana- 
tions of  the  matter. 

The  obvious  thing  is,  that  Hawthorne  wrote  a 
eulogistic  Life  of  the  candidate,  and  was  paid  for  it  with 
the  Liverpool  Consulate.  But  even  were  this  the  real 
and  the  whole  case,  one  might  justly  reserve  all  bitter 
reproaches  for  the  book- piracy  which  had  reduced  such 
an  author  to  the  necessity  of  so  bartering  his  brain  for 
the  support  of  his  family.  But  this  is  not  the  whole 
case.  Pierce  was  candidate  of  the  party  to  which 
Hawthorne  had  all  his  life  belonged,  and  strictly  repre- 
sentative of  his  political  principles.  He  was  also  his 


144  LIFE  OF 

loyal  friend  from  college  days,  had  helped  to  secure  him 
the  Surveyorship  of  Customs  at  Salem,  and,  if  elected, 
would  pretty  certainly  have  offered  Hawthorne  office, 
whether  the  biography  were  written  or  not.  Pierce 
requested  this  favour.  "  I  have  consented,"  wrote 
Hawthorne  to  Fields,  who  published  the  book,  "  some- 
what reluctantly,  however,  for  Pierce  has  now  reached 
that  altitude  where  a  man  careful  of  his  personal  dignity 
will  begin  to  think  of  cutting  his  acquaintance.  But  I 
seek  nothing  from  him,  and  therefore  need  not  be 
ashamed  to  tell  the  truth  of  an  old  friend."  To  Horatio 
Bridge  he  wrote  that  he  had  vainly  tried  to  persuade 
Pierce  that  he  could  not  perform  the  work  as  well  as 
others,  "  and  of  course,  after  a  friendship  of  thirty  years, 
it  was  impossible  to  refuse  my  best  efforts  in  his  behalf, 
at  the  great  pinch  of  his  life."  In  this  letter  he  states 
that,  before  undertaking  the  work,  he  resolved  to  accept 
no  office  from  Pierce,  but  afterwards  inclined  to  regard 
this  as  "  rather  folly  than  heroism ;  "  he  now  also  thinks 
that  Pierce  certainly  owes  him  something.  "For  the 
biography  has  cost  me  hundreds  of  friends  here  in  the 
North,  who  had  a  purer  regard  for  me  than  Frank  Pierce 
or  any  other  politician  ever  gained,  and  who  drop  off 
from  me  like  autumn  leaves,  in  consequence  of  what  I 
say  on  the  slavery  question.  But  they  were  my  real 
sentiments,  and  I  do  not  now  regret  that  they  are  on 
record."  The  preface  opens  with  a  remarkable  caveat : 
"The  author  of  this  memoir — being  so  little  of  a  politi- 
cian that  he  scarcely  feels  entitled  to  call  himself  a 
member  of  any  party — would  not  voluntarily  have  under- 
taken the  work  here  offered  to  the  public." 


HA  VV  THORN E.  145 

Such,  then,  is  the  whole  case.  Franklin  Pierce  was  a 
very  persuasive  person,  just  the  man  to  win  from  the 
feminine  side  of  Hawthorne's  heart  this  promise  so 
reluctantly  performed.  The  sharpness  of  the  above 
allusion  to  "  Frank  Pierce  or  any  other  politician " 
cannot  be  mistaken.  Hawthorne  has  an  angry  conscious- 
ness that  he  has  been  persuaded  to  descend  from  the 
sanctum  of  his  genius.  Whatever  Pierce's  friendship, 
he  was  sufficiently  a  "  politician "  to  subordinate  his 
friend's  literary  reputation  to  his  own  elevation  to  the 
presidency.  "  He  certainly  owes  me  something,"  writes 
Hawthorne  to  their  mutual  friend  Bridge,  of  which  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  Haw- 
thorne's accepting  the  payment.  Pierce  was  little  known 
in  the  country — his  obscurity  being  made  the  most  of  by 
his  opponents — and  Hawthorne's  romantic  eulogium  may 
have  secured  his  election.  The  author  is  to  be  credited 
with  never  having  thrown  any  defensive  glamour  over  this 
transaction.  In  1858,  when  ex-President  Pierce  was 
with  him  in  Rome,  Hawthorne  reflects  with  satisfaction 
that  the  benefaction  was  not  all  on  one  side.  "  Each 
did  his  best  for  the  other,  as  friend  for  friend."  This 
is  his  own  verdict.  He  knew  that  Pierce  would  offer 
him  office,  and  that  his  circumstances  would  not  permit 
him  to  refuse  it ;  he  did  not  wish  to  be  under  unrequited 
obligations.  Thus  his  fault  leans  to  virtue's  side.  The 
only  distress  one  feels  in  such  an  everyday  kind  of  thing 
is  based  in  homage  to  one  who  was  not  an  everyday 
kind  of  man. 

To  the  present  writer  it  appears  that  Hawthorne 
descended  from  his  height  to  write  the  book,  and  re- 
10 


146  LIFE  OF 

mamed  on  that  lower  level  while  writing.  The  "  Life 
of  Franklin  Pierce,"  as  one  reads  it  in  the  light  of  history, 
seems  a  sorrier  performance  than  it  really  was  while  as 
yet  the  candidate  was  only  a  good  sort  of  fellow  to  his 
friends.  But  that  miserable  and  murderous  administra- 
tion has  been  removed,  by  events  that  sum  up  genera- 
tions, into  a  past  sufficiently  remote  to  admit  of  a 
dispassionate  verdict  on  Pierce.  An  old  farmer  of  his 
neighbourhood  (Concord,  N.  H.),  on  hearing  of  his 
nomination,  said — "  Frank  does  well  enough  for  Concord, 
but  he'll  be  monstrous  thin,  spread  out  over  the  United 
States."  This  proved  true.  Without  being  merely  wise 
after  the  fact,  one  may  see  in  this  so-called  "Life" — a 
prolonged  encomium — an  illustration  of  how  a  weak 
man  may  sometimes  pull  a  strong  one  near  his  own 
level.  In  this,  his  only  biography,  the  subsequent 
devastator  of  Kanzas,  through  mere  passiveness  in  the 
hands  of  slavery,  stands  worthy  of  the  Great  Stone  Face. 
Plainly,  Hawthorne  had  undertaken  a  political  job,  and 
was  too  truthful  to  give  it  the  air  of  impartial  history. 

It  is  shocking  to  think  that  such  a  man  should  speak 
—  with  a  sincerity  that  itself  seems  deplorable  —  of 
the  anti-slavery  movement  as  "  the  mistiness  of  a 
philanthropic  theory ;  "  still  more  that  his  hero's  share 
in  the  proslavery  robbery  of  Mexico  —  euphemisti- 
cally called  "war" — should  be  extolled  without  any 
intimation  of  the  indignation  felt  by  every  other  northern 
thinker  in  America.  There  could  be  little  if  any  com- 
plaint that  Hawthorne,  as  the  hermit  of  his  thought, 
absorbed  in  his  own  particular  task,  should  withhold 
himself  from  the  political  agitations  of  the  country,  and 


HA  WTHORNE.  147 

even  from  the  struggle  for  negro  emancipation.     But  in 
this   instance  he   did  descend  into  the  arena,  he  did 
participate  in  the  struggle  of  liberty,  reinforcing  wrong 
by  a  blindness  which    seems  the   very   counterpart   of 
his   clear  vision  in   his  own   realm.      In   this  partizan 
plane  he  repeats,  with  a  tone  of  profundity,  common- 
places of  the  proslavery  stump.     E-g~>  "  There  is  still 
another  view,  and  probably  as  wise  a  one.      It  looks 
upon  slavery  as  one  of  those  evils  which  Divine  Provi- 
dence does  not  leave  to  be  remedied  by  human  con- 
trivances, but  which,  in  its  own  good  time,  by  some  means 
impossible  to   be   anticipated,  but  of  the  simplest  and 
easiest   operation,    when   all   its  uses   shall   have   been 
fulfilled,  it  causes  to  vanish  like  a  dream.     There  is  no 
instance,  in  all  history,  of  the  human  will  and  intellect 
having  perfected  any   great   moral   reform  by  methods 
which  it  adapted  to  that  end."     Hawthorne  wrote  this 
in  August,  and  if  he  had  dropped  his  pen  and  gone  to 
Concord  Town  Hall,  he  might  have  hit  the  very  hour 
when  his  fellow-citizens  were  celebrating  the  emancipa- 
tion of  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  by  "methods  adapted 
to  that  end"  by  human  will  and  intellect.     On  the  other 
hand,    he   might   have   discovered   in   the   seven   years 
American  Revolution,  what  the  horrible  Civil  War  had 
not  yet  confirmed,  those  "  means  of  simplest  and  easiest 
operation  "  by  which  evils  are  removed  when  left  to  be 
remedied  by  "  Providence,  in  its  own  good  time."     It  is 
tragical  to  think  that  such  stuff  brought  Hawthorne  more 
money  than  all  his  real  works  together. 

The  errors  of  a  good  man,  says  a  Hindu  verse,  are  like 
eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon  ;  their  darkness  all  men 


148  LIFE  OF 

deplore,  for  their  return  all  men  look.  In  Hawthorne's 
eclipse  the  expectancy  of  his  friends  was  not  that  he 
would  ever  attain  knowledge  of  the  subjects  treated  in 
the  biography  of  Pierce.  There  he  had  somehow 
suffered  a  hopeless  arrest  of  development.  But  they 
longed  for  the  day  when  he  should  emerge  from  the 
political  "  ring  "  which  had  used  him,  and  be  seen  again 
in  his  shining  height  of  thought.  Though  no  prospect 
of  advantage,  unreinforced  by  loyalty  to  early  friendship, 
could  have  induced  Hawthorne  to  write  a  campaign 
document  even  for  the  party  he  preferred,  it  was  but 
fair,  amid  the  bitter  consequences,  that  payment  should 
be  made.  It  was  demanded  by  all  parties,  and  without 
reproaches  on  Hawthorne.  So  far  as  it  was  possible  the 
debt  was  paid.  The  Liverpool  Consulate  was  given, 
and  Hawthorne  was  released  from  want,  and  all  its 
temptations,  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Felicitations  were  universal  Hawthorne  was  nearly 
the  only  literary  man  in  America  who  had  not  opposed 
Pierce's  election,  but  they  all  rejoiced.  Charles  Sumner, 
leader  of  the  antislavery  party  in  the  Senate,  wrote  a 
note,  in  the  moment  of  Hawthorne's  confirmation,  that 
"  fairly  shouted  as  with  a  silver  trumpet,"  says  Mrs. 
Hawthorne,  "it  was  so  cordial  and  full  of  joy.  So  from 
all  sides  Hawthorne  seems  chosen  by  acclamation."  It 
is  amusing  to  find  Hawthorne  himself  turned  into  a 
dispenser  of  patronage.  Mr.  Dreer  possesses  a  charac- 
teristic letter,  dated  at  Concord,  April  i,  1853  : 

"  DEAR  O'SULLIVAN, — It  vexes  me  to  see  that  you  are  not  yet 
appointed  to  some  most  desirable  office  or  other  ;  for  I  am  convinced 


HA  WTHORNE.  149 

that  it  is  only  your  own  fine-drawn  scruples  that  prevent  it.  I  am 
out  of  patience  with  you.1 

' '  But  what  I  wish  now  to  say  is,  that  there  is  a  young  fellow  in 
New  York  in  whom  I  feel  an  interest ;  and  if  you  had  been  appointed 
Post-master,  I  meant  to  ask  you  to  find  him  a  clerkship.  It  is 

,  the  poet ;  a  good  little  fellow,  who  has  recently  got  married, 

and  has  no  means  of  keeping  his  wife  or  himself.  He  tells  me 
he  is  a  Democrat ;  but  as  to  hard  shell  or  soft  shell,  or  Barn- 
burner or  Hunker,  he  don't  know  one  from  another.  His  habits 
and  character  are  unexceptionable ;  he  has  shown  a  good  deal  of 
poetic  talent,  and  a  small  appointment  in  his  favour  would  reflect 
credit  on  the  source  whence  it  should  come.  His  claim  on  me 
is,  that  he  wrote  a  biography  of  my  distinguished  self  in  a  magazine  ; 
and  biographers  of  great  men  ought  to  be  rewarded — and  sometimes 
are  so.  Can  you  do  anything  for  him  ?  I  shall  not  probably  have 
any  situation  for  him  at  Liverpool ;  neither  would  it  suit  him  to  go 
there  with  his  wife,  nor,  to  confess  the  truth,  would  it  suit  me  very 
well  to  take  him.  I  don't  want  to  be  bothered  with  a  poet.  Think 

of  this.     Parke  Godwin,  I   understand,  knows  ,  and  can  tell 

you  whether  it  is  best  to  help  him. 

•''  Your  friend, 

"NATH.  HAWTHORNE." 

"  P.S. — I  mean  to  go  to  Washington  (for  the  first  time  in  my  life) 
in  about  a  fortnight." 

The  eclipse  was  long.  In  the  latter  part  of  June, 
1853,  Hawthorne  sailed  for  Liverpool,  and  for  six  years 
no  literary  work  appeared  from  his  pen.2  It  was  the 
most  dignified  consulate  in  the  gift  of  the  Government, 
it  involved  little  of  the  "  society  business  "  which  Haw- 

1  O'Sullivan  was  presently  appointed  Minister  to  Portugal,  a  post 
at  first  thought  of  for  Hawthorne. 

2  "My  ancestor,"  he  writes,  "left  England  in  1630  ;  I  return  in 
1853.     I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  myself  had  been  absent  these  two 
hundred  and  twenty-three  years,  leaving   England  just  emerging 
from  the  feudal  system,  and  finding  it  on  my  return  on  the  verge  of 
republicanism." 


150  LIFE  OF 

thorne  detested,  and  was  supposed  to  be  a  mine  of 
wealth.  The  latter  supposition  was,  however,  delusive, 
as  appears  from  the  subjoined  (unpublished)  letter, 
dated  September  13,  1853  : — 

"DEAR  X., — I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  this  some 
time,  but  wished  to  get  some  tolerably  clear  idea  of  the  state  of 
things  here  before  communicating  with  you.  I  find  that  I  have 
three  persons  in  my  office — the  head  clerk,  or  vice-consul,  at  £200  ; 
the  second  clerk,  at  ^150;  and  the  messenger,  who  does  some 
writing,  at  ;£8o.  They  are  all  honest  and  capable  men,  and  do 
their  duty  to  perfection.  No  American  would  take  either  of  these 
places  for  twice  the  sums  they  receive ;  and  no  American  without 
some  months'  practice  would  undertake  the  duty.  Of  the  two,  I 
would  rather  displace  the  vice-consul  than  the  second  clerk,  who 
does  a  great  amount  of  labour,  and  has  a  remarkable  variety  of 
talent,  whereas  the  old  gentleman,  though  perfect  in  his  own  track, 
is  nothing  outside  of  it.  I  will  not  part  with  either  of  these  men 
unless  compelled  to  do  so  ;  and  I  don't  think  old  Lord  Massey  can 
compel  me. 

"  Now  as  to  the  Manchester  branch,  it  brings  me  in  only  about 
^200.  There  is  a  consular  agent  there,  all  the  business  being 
transacted  here  in  Liverpool.  The  only  reason  for  appointing 
an  agent  would  be  that  it  might  shut  off  all  attempts  to  get  a 
separate  consulate  there.  There  is  no  danger,  I  presume,  of  such 
an  attempt  for  some  time  to  come,  for  Pierce  made  a  direct 
promise  that  the  place  should  be  kept  open  for  my  benefit.  Never- 
theless, efforts  will  be  made  to  fill  it,  and  very  possibly  representa- 
tions may  be  made  from  the  business-men  of  Manchester  that  there 
is  necessity  for  a  consul  there.  In  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  it 
would  make  very  little  difference  to  me  whether  the  place  were 
filled  by  an  independent  consul  or  by  a  vice-consul  of  my  own 
appointment,  for  the  latter  would,  of  course,  not  be  satisfied  with 
less  than  the  whole  £200.  What  I  should  like  would  be  to  keep 
the  place  vacant  and  receive  the  proceeds  as  long  as  possible,  and 
at  last,  when  I  could  do  no  better,  to  give  the  office  to  you.  No 
great  generosity  in  that,  to  be  sure.  There,  I  have  put  the  matter 


HAWTHORNE.  151 

fairly  before  you.  Do  you  tell  me  frankly  how  your  own  affairs 
stand,  and  whether  you  can  live  any  longer  in  that  cursed  old 
custom-house  without  hanging  yourself.  Rather  than  that  you 
should  do  so,  I  would  let  you  have  the  place  to-morrow,  although 
it  would  pay  you  about  ^100  less  than  your  present  office.  I 
suppose,  as  a  single  man,  you  might  live  within  your  income  at 
Manchester  ;  but,  judging  from  my  own  experience,  as  a  married 
man  it  would  be  a  very  tight  fit.  With  all  the  economy  I  could 
use,  I  have  already  got  rid  of  $2,000  since  landing  in  England. 
Hereafter  I  hope  to  spend  less  and  save  more. 

"  In  point  of  emolument,  my  office  will  turn  out  about  what  I 
expected.  If  I  have  ordinary  luck  I  shall  bag  from  $5,000  to  $7,000 
clear  per  annum ;  but  to  effect  this  I  shall  have  to  deny  myself  many 
things  which  I  would  gladly  have.  Col.  Crittenden  told  me  that  it 
cost  him  $4,000  to  live  with  only  his  wife  at  a  boarding-house, 
including  a  journey  to  England  now  and  then.  I  am  determined 
not  to  spend  more  than  this  in  keeping  house  with  my  wife  and 
children.  I  have  hired  a  good  house,  furnished,  at  ;£i6o,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river  Mersey,  at  Rock  Park,  where  there  is  good 
air  and  play-ground  for  the  children  ;  and  I  can  come  over  to  the 
city  by  steamboat  every  morning.  I  like  the  situation  all  the 
better  because  it  will  render  it  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  parties, 
or  to  give  parties  myself,  and  will  keep  me  out  of  a  good  deal  of 
nonsense. 

' '  Liverpool  is  a  most  detestable  place  as  a  residence  that  ever  my 
lot  was  cast  in — smoky,  noisy,  dirty,  pestilential ;  and  the  consulate 
is  situated  in  the  most  detestable  part  of  the  city.  The  streets 
swarm  with  beggars  by  day  and  by  night.  You  never  saw  the 
like  ;  and  I  pray  that  you  may  never  see  it  in  America.  It  is  worth 
while  coming  across  the  sea  in  order  to  feel  one's  heart  warm 
towards  his  own  country  ;  and  I  feel  it  all  the  more  because  it  is 
plain  to  be  seen  that  a  great  many  of  the  Englishmen  whom  I  meet 
here  dislike  us,  whatever  they  may  pretend  to  the  contrary. 

"Myself  and  my  family  have  suffered  very  much  from  the 
elements.  There  has  not  been  what  we  should  call  a  fair  day 
since  our  arrival,  nor  a  single  day  when  a  fire  would  not  be  agree- 
able. I  long  for  one  of  our  snowy  days  and  one  of  our  good  hearty 
rains.  It  always  threatens  to  rain,  but  seldom  rains  in  good  earnest. 


152  LIFE  OF 

It  never  does  rain,  and  it  never  don't  rain  ;  but  you  are  pretty  sure 
to  get  a  sprinkling  if  you  go  out  without  an  umbrella.  Except  by 
the  fireside  I  have  not  been  as  warm  as  I  should  like  to  be  ;  but 
the  Englishmen  call  it  a  sultry  day  whenever  the  thermometer  rises 
above  60°.  There  has  not  been  heat  enough  in  England  this  season 
to  ripen  an  apple. 

"My  wife  and  children  often  talk  of  you.  Even  the  baby  has 
not  forgotten  you.  Write  often,  and  say  as  much  as  you  can  about 
yourself,  and  as  little  as  you  please  about  A,  B,  and  C,  and  all  the 
rest  of  those  wretches  of  whom  my  soul  was  weary  to  death  before 
I  made  my  escape. — Your  friend  ever, 

"NATH.  HAWTHORNE." 

The  "  Lord  Massey  "  referred  to  was  Secretary-of-State 
Marcy.  The  initials  are  not  those  of  the  persons  named 
in  the  original.  The  lugubrious  note  sounded  in  this 
letter  did  not  improve.  It  is  as  impossible  to  acquit 
Hawthorne  of  some  provincialism  as  Liverpool  of  the 
capacity  for  bringing  it  all  out.  Henry  Bright,  a  gentle- 
man of  fine  wit,  whom  he  had  met  in  America,  tried  by 
every  art  to  make  the  place  pleasant  for  him.  The 
Heywoods  were  also  devoted.  What  success  they  had 
is  discoverable  in  this  note  of  July  5,  1855  : 

"DEAR  MR.  BRIGHT, — I  have  come  back  (only  for  a  day  or 
two)  to  this  black  and  miserable  hole. — Yours  truly, 

"NATH.  HAWTHORNE. 

"  P.S. — I  don't  mean  to  apply  the  above  two  disparaging  adjec- 
tives merely  to  my  Consulate,  but  to  all  Liverpool  and  its  environs 
—except  Sandheys  and  Norris  Green." 

These  exceptions  were  the  homes  of  the  Heywoods 
and  the  Brights.  In  fact,  there  is  something  in  Haw- 
thorne's whole  sojourn  in  England  to  remind  one  of  a 
theme  he  noted  in  early  life,  of  a  person  or  family 


HA  WTHORNE.  153 

desiring  a  particular  good,  and,  when  it  finally  arrives, 
finding  it  the  pest  of  their  lives.  He  did,  indeed,  find 
some  benefits ;  sufficiency  of  means  for  the  time — though 
saving  was  necessary — enabled  him  to  enjoy  and  assist 
the  mental  growth  of  his  children.  But  it  was  a  hard 
fate  for  a  mind  so  active — as  proved  by  his  "  Note  Books  " 
— to  be  unproductive  for  long  years.  Some  bitterness 
must  have  mingled  with  the  disappointment  in  finding 
the  emoluments  of  the  Consulate  so  much  less  than 
reported — during  his  tenure  they  were  reduced  much 
lower  by  Act  of  Congress — in  remembrance  of  the 
uncongenial  and  costly  task  which  had  received  a 
reward  so  paltry. 

But,  beyond  all  this,  there  was  a  deeper  fact  which 
made  England  an  unfortunate  appointment  for  Haw- 
thorne—a fact  now,  happily,  so  incomprehensible,  that 
its  mention  may  raise  a  smile  of  incredulity.  The  old 
Anglophobia  had  been  revived  by  the  share  taken  by 
England  in  the  anti-slavery  agitation;  it  had  become 
the  special  heritage  of  the  democratic  party,  and  con- 
fused with  patriotic  sentiment.  Hawthorne  inhaled  this 
prejudice  from  the  Custom  House  atmosphere,  both  in 
Boston  and  Salem,  and  now  from  the  party  which 
appointed  him — the  "  democracy  "  being  exasperated 
by  the  English  enthusiasm  for  Mrs.  Stowe.  He  meets 
"Grace  Greenwood"  (Mrs.  Lippincott)  in  England,  and 
mentions  her  regret  at  leaving  the  country,  "the  manners 
and  institutions  of  which  she  likes  rather  better,  I 
suspect,  than  an  American  ought.1  She  speaks  raptur- 

1  This  remark  adds  to  the  point  made  by  Leslie  Stephen  in  a  fine 
chapter  on  Hawthorne  ("  Hours  in  a  Library  ").  lie  thinks  Haw- 


154  LIFE  OF 

ously  of  the  English  hospitality  and  warmth  of  heart. 
I  likewise  have  already  experienced  something  of  this, 
and  apparently  have  a  good  deal  more  of  it  at  my  option. 
I  wonder  how  far  it  is  genuine,  and  in  what  degree  it 
is  better  than  the  superficial  good-feeling  with  which 
Yankees  receive  foreigners — a  feeling  not  calculated  for 
endurance,  but  a  good  deal  like  a  brushwood  fire.  We 
shall  see  ! "  I  am  assured  by  eminent  Englishmen  that, 
at  that  time,  the  average  Englishman  was  apt  to  assume 
airs  towards  an  American,  which  could  hardly  fail  to 
keep  alive  such  hereditary  prejudices  as  those  of  Haw- 
thorne. 

It  is  melancholy  to  think  that  this  combination  of 
causes  should  have  made  the  stay  of  such  a  man  in  the 
country  which  first  stamped  his  genius  as  pure  gold,  so 
unsatisfactory.  He  appears  to  have  met  few  except 
second-rate  writers.  His  career  in  England  was  a  failure. 
He  never  knew  the  giants  of  his  own  art — Thackeray, 
Dickens,  Reade,  George  Eliot.  He  saw  Tennyson  in  a 

thorne  was  afraid  of  coming  to  like  England  and  the  English  too 
well.  It  may  also  be  remarked  that  Hawthorne  was  strangely 
unconscious  of  the  esteem  felt  for  him  in  England.  He  is  over- 
whelmed by  the  kindness  of  Lady  Webster  in  showing  him  through 
Battle  Abbey,  and  of  Mr.  Evelyn  in  following  him  to  Mr.  Tupper's 
with  three  rare  volumes  which  Hawthorne  had  failed  to  see,  in  his 
absence,  when  calling  with  Francis  Bennoch  at  Wooton.  He  should 
never  had  expected  such  kindness,  he  says  with  naivete.  "  I  liked 
him  [Mr.  Evelyn],  and  felt  that  I  could  become  intimately  acquainted 
with  him  if  circumstances  were  favourable  ;  but  at  a  brief  interview 
like  this  it  was  hopeless  to  break  through  two  great  reserves."  Un- 
fortunately, he  declined  the  hospitalities  of  Wooton,  as  of  some 
other  places  which  might  have  brought  him  really  into  "  Our  Old 
Home,"  which  he  so  timidly  looked  on  from  the  outside. 


HA  WTHORNE.  155 

picture-gallery,  and  wrote  a  fine  description  of  his  appear- 
ance, but  never  met  him  ;  nor  Carlyle,  Mill,  Grote, — not 
the  men  who  might  have  made  his  sojourn  a  cosmopolitan 
education.  He  did  indeed  meet  the  Brownings,  but 
hardly  has  a  word  to  say  till  he  meets  them  again  in 
Florence.  "  He  looked  younger  and  handsomer  than 
when  I  saw  him  in  London,"  and  so  on.  "When  I  met 
her  [Mrs.  Browning]  in  London,  at  Lord  Houghton's 
breakfast-table,  she  did  not  impress  me  so  singularly." 
There  is  plenty  of  racy  recognition  of  the  Brownings, 
and  of  other  English  authors  met  under  Italian  skies ; 
but  the  few  magnates  of  literature  casually  met  in 
England,  before  he  went  to  Italy,  were  overcast  by 
the  lingering  mist  and  official  torpor  of  Liverpool.  On 
his  return  from  Italy,  as  we  shall  see,  it  was  better ;  but 
during  that  brief  and  busy  visit  the  lost  opportunities 
could  not  be  recovered. 

The  only  thing  during  his  consular  career  which  excited 
Hawthorne's  interest  was  the  scandal  caused  by  the  brutal 
treatment  of  seamen  on  American  ships.  His  despatch, 
written  just  after  his  resignation,  states  forcibly  the  case 
— that  the  United  States  has  no  native  seamen,  and 
that  the  maltreated  were  generally  landsmen  (returning 
emigrants)  trying  to  secure  passage  to  Europe  without 
payment.  The  ship-masters,  being  without  legal  means 
of  enforcing  their  authority,  dislike  the  service,  and  their 
class  deteriorates.  To  this  matter  the  following  extract, 
from  a  letter  (loaned  me  by  Mr.  W.  R.  Benjamin,  of  New 
York)  to  Elizabeth  Peabody,  refers  : — 

"  I  do  not  know  what  Sophia  may  have  said  about  my  conduct  in 


156  LIFE  OF 

the  Consulate.  I  only  know  that  I  have  done  no  good ;  none 
whatever.  Vengeance  and  beneficence  are  things  that  God  claims 
for  Himself.  His  instruments  have  no  consciousness  of  His  pur- 
pose ;  if  they  imagine  they  have,  it  is  a  pretty  sure  token  that  they 
are  not  His  instruments.  The  good  of  others,  like  our  own  happi- 
ness, is  not  to  be  attained  by  direct  effort,  but  incidentally.  All 
history  and  observation  confirm  this.  I  am  really  too  humble  to 
think  of  doing  good  !  Now,  I  presume  you  think  the  abolition  of 
floggmg  was  a  vast  boon  to  seamen.  I  see,  on  the  contrary,  with 
perfect  distinctness,  that  many  murders  and  an  immense  mass  of 
unpunishable  cruelty — a  thousand  blows,  at  least,  for  every  one 
that  the  cat-of-nine- tails  would  have  inflicted — have  resulted  from 
that  very  thing.  There  is  a  moral  in  this  fact  which  I  leave  you  to 
deduce.  God's  ways  are  in  nothing  more  mysterious  than  in  this 
matter  of  trying  to  do  good. 

"This  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  you  from  the  Consulate. 
My  successor  is  in  town,  and  will  take  the  office  upon  him  next 
Monday.  Thank  Heaven  ;  for  I  am  weary,  and,  if  it  were  not  for 
Sophia  and  the  children,  would  like  to  lie  down  on  one  spot  for 
about  a  hundred  years. 

"  We  shall  be  in  England,  however,  some  weeks  longer.  Good- 
bye.'1 

It  was,  however,  precisely  in  that  dismal  time  and 
place  that  Hawthorne  was  surprised  into  acting  the 
leading  part  in  a  romance  as  thrilling  as  any  he  ever 
wrote.  In  early  life  he  imagined  the  story  of  a  person 
going  about  and  making  converts  to  some  new  theory, 
but  presently,  while  addressing  a  meeting,  discovered  to 
be  an  escaped  lunatic.  Poor  Delia  Bacon,  the  anti- 
Shakespearian  apostle,  had  not  yet  reached  the  asylum 
when  she  persuaded  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  even  Carlyle, 
to  take  her  seriously  (albeit  sceptically) ;  but  her 
biography,  by  Theodore  Bacon,  leaves  little  room  to 
doubt  that  her  mind  was  affected  by  an  early  disappoint- 


HA  WTHORNE.  .       157 

ment,  and  her  career  hysterical.  The  personal  charm 
and  refined  enthusiasm  of  Miss  Bacon  fairly  magnetized 
Hawthorne ;  it  did  not  appear  to  him  incredible  that  the 
vicar  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  the  sexton,  had  given 
her — apparently  if  not  really — opportunity  to  open  the 
grave  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  night,  in  search  of  docu- 
ments which  were  to  disprove  his  authorship  of  the 
plays.  The  potency  of  the  imprecation  on  that  grave 
was  shown  in  the  faltering  of  her  own  heart.  It  was 
previous  to  that  mythical  scene  in  the  church,  so  im- 
pressively described  by  Hawthorne  in  "  Our  Old  Home," 
that  he  undertook  to  write  an  introduction  to  her  "  Philo- 
sophy of  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare."  He  was  reluctant 
to  do  this  ;  he  did  not  believe  in  the  paradox,  and  wrote 
to  her  (May  12,  1856),  "  As  to  the  case  of  the  'Old 
Player '  (whom  you  grieve  my  heart  by  speaking  of  so 
contemptuously),  you  will  have  to  rend  him  out  of  me 
by  the  roots,  and  by  main  force,  if  at  all."  He  did  not 
(as  she  entreated)  read  the  most  unreadable  of  books, 
but  dipped  into  the  huge  MS.  here  and  there  ;  he  fore- 
warns the  reader  of  an  attack  on  Shakespeare,  which  it 
does  not  contain,  and  praises  the  work  for  what  is  not 
there.  This  introduction,  and  the  correspondence 
between  Hawthorne  and  Miss  Bacon,  make  her  bio- 
graphy an  addition  to  the  curiosities  of  literature.  Never 
was  greater  generosity  than  that  of  Hawthorne  to  the  dis- 
traught lady ;  besides  introducing  the  book  whose 
(supposed)  notions  he  abhorred,  he  paid  for  its  publica- 
tion. He  also  sent  the  impecunious  lady  money,  and 
altogether  lost  some  ,£200  by  her.  He  was  repaid  by 
her  insane  anger.  Hawthorne's  particular  friend  in 


158        .  LIFE  OF 

London,  Francis  Bennoch,  tells  me  that,  at  his  request, 
he  visited  Miss  Bacon  at  Stratford-on-Avon  several  times, 
and  saw  her  book  through  the  press,  though  he  knew  she 
was  insane.  She  told  Mr.  Bennoch  that  she  had  resolved 
to  die  in  Stratford,  and  had  arranged  with  the  sexton  to 
have  her  grave  dug  near  the  church  wall,  on  a  line  with 
Shakespeare's,  and  that  the  wall  would  be  pierced,  so 
that  her  spirit  might  have  free  intercourse  with  that  of 
the  poet.  As  it  was  only  the  "  Old  Player,"  and  not  the 
real  poet,  according  to  her  theory,  this  sentiment  might 
suggest  returning  sanity ;  but  it  was  some  years  after  her 
removal  to  an  asylum,  and  for  a  short  time  before  her 
death  in  America,  that  the  cloud  lifted  from  her  brain 
sufficiently  even  to  enable  her  to  see  Hawthorne's  kind- 
ness in  its  true  light. 

Hawthorne  visited  interesting  places  in  England — the 
Lakes,  where  he  vainly  tried  to  shout  into  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau's  ear-trumpet ;  Stratford-on-Avon,  where  he  failed 
to  see  the  Flowers  who  take  Americans  under  special 
care ;  Old  Boston — and  in  November,  1857,  took  lodgings 
at  24,  Great  Russell  Street,  London.  This  was  after  his 
resignation,  in  June.  He  remained  in  London  fifty  days, 
in  strange  seclusion,  so  far  as  the  living  London  was  con- 
cerned, but  observing  well  the  London  of  bygone  ages. 
Passing  over  to  Paris  (Jan.  3,  1858),  he  plunges  into  such 
ferocious  weather  that  "England  has  nothing  to  be  com- 
pared with  it."  His  patriotism  is  sufficiently  cooled  for  a 
sound  comment  on  the  uselessness  of  an  American  Lega- 
tion. "There  is  no  good  reason  why  Uncle  Sam  should 
pay  Judge  Mason  seventeen  thousand  dollars  a  year  for 
sleeping  in  the  dignified  post  of  Ambassador  to  France. 


HAWTHORNE.  159 

The  true  ground  of  complaint  is,  that  whether  he  slept 
or  waked,  the  result  would  be  the  same."  He  was 
eager  to  go  South,  and  the  little  time  passed  at  Paris 
and  Marseilles  was  devoted  to  ordinary  sight-seeing.  He 
was  in  Marseilles  when  an  attempt  was  made  on  the 
Emperor's  life,  but  no  feeling  about  the  incident  is  re- 
corded in  his  "Note  Books."  The  first  note  of  joy  is 
sounded  in  response  to  a  sunset  "  that  reminded  us  of 
what  we  used  to  see  day  after  day  in  America,  and  what 
we  have  not  seen  since." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

IN  the  third  week  of  January,  1858,  the  Hawthornes 
reached  Rome.  The  new  Rome  had  not  then  been 
added.  The  population  was  about  half  of  what  it  now 
is,  and  the  civilized  comforts  for  the  visitor  far  inferior  to 
what  they  now  are.  The  sacred  hills  were  not  yet  invaded 
by  the  temporal  railway.  From  Civita  Vecchia  the  jour- 
ney was  by  coach.  The  road  being  not  yet  secure  from 
banditti,  the  Hawthornes  remembered  the  proverbial 
hilarity  of  the  empty  traveller  in  meeting  the  robber,  and 
hid  their  gold  in  an  old  umbrella  and  other  unsuspicious 
places.  So  they  entered  Rome,  and  took  up  their 
abode  in  Palazzo  Sarazzani,  Via  Porta  Pinciana,  where 
Hawthorne's  Italian  experiences  began  with  an  influenza. 
He  found  himself  among  friends,  and  passed  two  winters 
there, — between  which  I  shall  not  carefully  distinguish. 
The  historian  Motley  was  in  Rome  with  his  family 
during  the  winter  of  1858-9.  Motley  had  a  profound 
admiration  for  Hawthorne's  genius,  and  there  are  inte- 
resting notes  of  their  friendship  in  his  letters,  edited  by 
his  daughter,  Lady  Harcourt.  W.  W.  Story,  the  sculptor, 
was  a  native  of  the  same  town,  Salem,  and  had  met  Haw- 
thorne in  the  office  of  his  friend  Hillard,  with  whom  Story 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  161 

studied  law.  Hawthorne,  Story,  and  Motley  formed  a  sort 
of  rambling  club  among  themselves.  Every  Sunday  they 
wandered  on  the  Campagna,  depending  on  the  casual 
Albergo  for  their  luxuriant  luncheon  of  bread  and  cheese 
and  sour  wine.  From  the  surviving  comrade  I  learn 
that  those  who  knew  Hawthorne  as  a  shy  and  taciturn 
man  would  not  have  recognized  him  on  these  rambles ; 
he  laughed,  chattered,  leaped.  "  We  were  as  three  boys 
together."  Hawthorne  had  just  liberated  himself  from 
his  consular  galleys  at  Liverpool,  and  was  rejoicing  in  his 
freedom.  He  had  come  to  Rome  only  to  give  his  family 
— particularly  his  wife,  and  their  daughter  Una,  both 
devoted  to  art — a  pleasant  excursion.  For  himself,  he 
had  little  knowledge  of  art,  and  no  taste  for  ruins,  and 
it  was  to  be  some  time  before  he  should  take  Rome 
seriously.  Soon  after  his  arrival  the  Carnival  came  on  : 
Hawthorne  actually  entered  into  the  frolic,  and  took  his 
shower  of  confetti  like  a  man.  They  were  symbols  of 
sunbeams  coming  after  a  severe  winter.  Hawthorne 
really  enjoyed  the  society  he  met  in  Rome,  which,  be- 
sides the  Storys  and  Motleys,  included  Mrs.  Jameson, 
Miss  Bremer,  the  poet  Bryant,  Harriet  Hosmer,  the 
Hookers,  the  artists  Terry,  Thompson,  Ropes,  and  Miss 
Lander,  who  made  the  bust  of  him  now  in  Concord 
Library.  It  was  only  after  the  publication  of  Haw- 
thorne's journals  that  the  artists  knew  how  carefully  he 
had  been  observing  their  works.  Mr.  Story  tells  me 
that  while  he  was  at  work  on  his  "  Cleopatra  "  Hawthorne 
sometimes  sat  beside  him,  but  said  little,  and  he  (the 
sculptor)  suspected  his  friend  did  not  like  the  work. 
He  had  not  yet  received  "  Transformation  "  when  some 
ii 


162  LIFE  OF 

English  ladies  asked  to  see  "  Cleopatra,"  before  which 
one  of  them  read  the  description  aloud.  The  sculptor 
then  advanced  from  his  work  with  inquiries,  and  thus  for 
the  first  time  discovered  the  impression  his  statue  had 
made  on  Hawthorne. 

Hawthorne  had  no  thought  of  writing  a  romance  about 
Rome  when  he  arrived  there.  But  Rome  presently  held 
him  with  its  glittering  eye. 

"  That  moment  that  his  face  I  see, 
I  know  the  man  that  must  hear  me, 
To  him  my  tale  I  teach." 

In  vain  the  guest  tries  to  get  free.  He  rages  at  the  rub- 
bish of  Rome,  literal  and  moral.  He  pictures  Rome, 
repeatedly,  as  a  corpse.  The  similitude  recalls  the 
legend  of  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi  at  the  bedside  of  a 
woman  who  had  entreated  his  presence  to  receive  her 
dying  confession.  He  has  arrived  after  her  death,  but 
summons  the  corpse  back  into  consciousness  long  enough 
to  whisper  her  secret  burden.  The  spell  of  Hawthorne's 
mystical  romance  lies  in  the  secrets  he  hears  from  pallid 
lips  of  Rome's  past,  and  also — for  the  confession  was  not 
all  on  one  side — in  its  self-revelations.  Hawthorne's 
genius  is  expressed  equally  in  other  works,  but  it  is  in 
"Transformation"  that  his  inner  history  is  told, — and 
therein  all  the  evolutionary  years  of  New  England,  whereof 
he  was  the  characteristic  flower.  Having  come  so  far 
the  book  reaches  far  :  it  has  had  the  phenomenal  success 
of  becoming  at  once  the  tourist's  guide  and  the  scholar's 
interpreter.  "  I  have  read  it  seven  times,"  said  Dean 
Stanley  to  a  friend.  "  I  read  it  when  it  appeared,  as  I 


HA  WTHORNE.  163 

read  everything  from  that  English  master.  I  read  it  again 
when  I  expected  to  visit  Rome,  then  when  on  the  way  to 
Rome,  again  while  in  Rome,  afterwards  to  revive  my 
impressions  of  Rome.  Recently  I  read  it  again  because 
I  wanted  to."  "  Transformation "  has  thus  made  its  way 
into  public  favour,  despite  faults  which  lovers  of  romance 
especially  resent — inconclusiveness,  and  the  raising  of 
mysteries  never  explained. 

The  disappointments  almost  hid  for  a  time  the  real 
value  of  the  work.  The  Saturday  Review  congratulated 
Americans  on  having  produced  a  writer  of  English  who 
had  "  few  rivals  or  equals  in  the  mother  country,"  but 
complains  that,  in  "  Transformation,"  a  "  mystery  is  set 
before  us  to  unriddle,  and  at  the  end  the  author  turns 
round  and  asks  us  what  is  the  good  of  solving  it."  Henry 
Chorley,  to  whom  Hawthorne  owed  his  first  recognition 
in  England,  was  constrained  to  say,  in  the  Athenczum, 
"  We  know  of  little  in  romance  more  inconclusive  and 
hazy  than  the  manner  in  which  the  tale  is  brought  to  a 
close.  Hints  will  not  suffice  to  satisfy  interest  which  has 
been  excited  to  voracity."  The  general  grumbling  attested 
the  power  of  the  wizard,  and  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
private  questions.  Compelled  to  some  response,  he 
added  a  "  Postscript "  to  the  second  edition;  but  this 
left  unsolved  the  real  riddles.  What  crime  had  the  old 
model  committed ;  and  by  what  ingenuity  had  he  so 
involved  innocent  Miriam,  that  she  was  in  his  power? 
With  what  motive  did  he  torment  her  ?  What  became 
of  Miriam  and  her  lover  ? 

These  questions  are  not  answered  because  they  are 
unanswerable.  The  mistake  was  in  calling  the  work  a 


164  LIFE  OF 

romance.  The  artist  has  portrayed  four  characters,  and 
surrounded  them  with  an  ornamental  frame  of  Roman 
scenes.  If  the  whiteness  of  one  requires  a  very  dark 
background,  the  pigment  is  supplied,  whether  ground 
from  a  mummy  or  a  murdered  monk.  Hilda  must  be  too 
pure  for  friendship  with  an  accomplice  of  homicide ; 
Miriam  too  noble  to  be  an  accomplice  in  any  but  a  tran- 
scendental homicide,  by  which  the  reader  is  relieved,  and 
then  only  by  an  unconscious  look ;  Donatello  must  be 
heroic,  as  if,  summoned  by  the  appealing  look,  he  had 
slain  a  dragon  about  to  devour  the  maiden.  An  original, 
crime  so  dark,  so  continuous  and  all-pervading  as  to 
supply  such  various  artistic  requirements,  is  unknown  to 
history,  and  consequently  incommunicable.1  For  our 
artist's  purposes — to  supply  shades  and  backgrounds  for 
his  characters — it  is  enough  to  declare  that  the  mysterious 
horror  had  occurred,  and  to  show  its  evil  reflection  on 
the  persons  portrayed.  Had  he  described  the  crime  he 
would  be  met  by  vociferous  declarations  of  its  impossi- 
bility or  inadequacy.  His  four  portraits,  his  ornamental 
frame,  would  have  been  lost  sight  of  in  the  discussion. 
Nor  could  he  ring  commonplace  wedding-bells  over 
Donatello  without  marring  the  unique  character.  Under 

1  He  artfully  raises  the  crime  into  his  romantic  atmosphere  by 
hinting  that  it  bore  some  resemblance  to  that  of  Beatrice  Cenci,  but, 
had  it  been  identified  as  that,  his  reader's  feeling  towards  Miriam 
would  be  entirely  changed.  Her  air  of  innocence  would  be  re- 
pulsive. The  relation  between  Miriam  and  the  Model  suggests 
that  between  Hester  and  her  husband,  in  ' '  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  but 
the  comparison  cannot  be  pressed  without  fatally  modifying  Miriam's 
character.  The  artist  prefers  to  accept  his  scoldings  rather  than  mar 
his  characters. 


HA  WTHORNE.  165 

the  ray  of  love,  and  the  shock  of  crime  inspired  by  love, 
a  soul  is  born  in  the  Faun ;  it  is  proved  by  renunciation, 
by  confession  and  surrender.  While  his  execution  would 
be  intolerable,  his  release  would  dim  his  crown  of  martyr- 
dom. Subsequent  happiness,  after  even  a  chivalrous 
homicide,  would  argue  a  downward  development.  It  was 
necessary  to  leave  his  fate  undetermined. 

Despite  its  artful  sheen  of  romanticism,  "  Transforma- 
tion "  is  a  rather  realistic  drama.  It  is  more  American 
than  Italian,  even  the  scenery  amid  which  it  is  mounted 
'being  cunningly  moralized  into  harmony  with  characters 
by  no  means  Italian.  It  is  a  liability  of  the  Yankee,  in 
becoming  cosmopolitan,  to  know  every  country  except 
his  own  ;  but  Hawthorne  was  never  cosmopolitan — New 
England  may  always  be  discovered  looking  through  his 
eyes.  The  characters  of  "  Transformation  "  are  indeed 
invested  with  a  widely  human  interest,  but  two  of  the 
models — Hilda  and  Kenyon — are  Bostonian  ;  Miriam, 
though  portrayed  from  a  Jewess  met  in  London,  is 
naturalized  into  American  independence ;  and  the  only 
professed  Italian,  Donatello,  is  more  like  Henry  Thoreau 
of  Concord,  than  any  historical  personage.  Thoreau 
used  to  amuse  us  by  gently  raising  fish  out  of  the  water ; 
to  those  who  did  not  know  that  the  fish  was  the  bream, 
which  is  bold  enough  to  try  and  protect  its  spawn — which 
Thoreau's  hand  threatened — the  feat  was  sufficiently 
marvellous  to  suggest  Donatello's  intimacy  with  the  wild 
creatures  around  Monte  Beni. 

Hilda — the  name  was  fixed  on  at  Whitby  Abbey — in 
her  tower,  surrounded  by  white  doves,  and  keeping  alive 
•the  Virgin's  lamp,  may  appear  a  romantic  figure.  She  is, 


166  LIFE  OF 

however,  a  "  prophetic  picture  "  of  Hawthorne's  eldest 
daughter.  "Una,"  says  her  brother  Julian,  "was  the 
first-born,  and  on  many  accounts  perhaps  the  dearest  of 
the  children.  She  had  the  finest  mind  of  any,  the  most 
complex  and  beautiful  character,  and  in  various  ways 
most  strongly  resembled  her  father."  Hawthorne  always 
called  the  Old  Manse  at  Concord  his  Eden,  and  Una 
was  the  sweetest  flower  from  it.  She  grew  to  be  a  fair 
maiden,  with  golden-tinted  hair,  who  not  only  appeared 
to  have  stepped  from  Spenser's  poem,  but  had  a  dreamy 
way  of  thinking.  In  a  game  of  comparisons,  one  of  her 
young  friends  told  me,  Una  was  always  vague — "  like  a 
shadow"  "like  a  perfume,"  she  would  say,  without  the 
slightest  affectation,  as  if  these  were  the  things  most 
familiar  to  her.  Art  became  her  natural  expression,  and 
it  was  while  beguiled  by  some  fascinating  ruin  she  was 
sketching  in  Rome  that  she  slipped  within  the  typhoid 
coils.  Una's  illness  overshadowed  Rome  for  Hawthorne. 
Both  he  and  his  wife  appear  to  have  been  strangely  help- 
less, and  the  case  was  entirely  trusted  to  a  foolish 
physician,  who  declared  that  Una  must  die  on  the  seven- 
teenth of  the  month.  The  miserable  parents  surrendered 
to  this  fate  without  questioning.  Every  morning  Haw- 
thorne counted  another  day  off  Una's  life;  and  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  sat,  with  pen  and  paper,  writing  down  the 
girl's  utterances.  Mrs.  Story,  who  visited  them  constantly, 
tells  me  that  Hawthorne's  grief  was  most  touching.  He 
used  to  sit  by  the  fire  warming  tea-leaves  for  Una,  having 
heard  that  such  heating  would  bring  out  the  flavour.  At 
last  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Story  saw  that  Hawthorne  was  in  more 
danger  than  Una :  they  insisted  that  another  physician 


HA  WTHORNE.  107 

should  be  called,  declaring  that  no  man  who  ventured  to 
prophesy  the  exact  far  day  of  the  girl's  death  could  be 
trustworthy.  Another  physician — like  the  other,  homoeo- 
pathic— was  brought  in,  and  said  Una  would  recover — as 
she  did. 

While  Hawthorne  was  writing  the  first  sketch  of 
"Transformation" — in  the  Villa  Montauto,  near  Flor- 
ence— Una  had  her  room  in  the  tower,  which  is  some- 
what idealized  in  the  description  of  Monte  Beni  Castle. 
"Adjoining  Una's  chamber,"  says  the  journal,  "which 
is  in  the  tower,  there  is  a  little  oratory,  hung  round  with 
sacred  prints  of  very  ancient  date,  and  with  crucifixes^ 
holy  water  vases,  and  other  consecrated  things  ;  and  here, 
within  a  glass  case,  there  is  the  representation  of  an 
undraped  little  boy  in  wax,  very  prettily  modelled,  and 
holding  up  a  heart  that  looks  like  a  bit  of  red  sealing 
wax."  There  was  also  a  skull — a  rather  gruesome  object 
for  the  bedroom  of  a  girl  of  fifteen.  Here  Una  sketched, 
and  became  herself  a  fair  model  for  Hilda  in  her  tower, 
feeding  the  Virgin's  lamp. 

To  her  acquaintances  Una,  after  her  illness,  appeared 
the  same  as  before ;  it  is  probable,  however,  that  the 
father  felt  that  all  was  not  as  before.  An  inner  physical 
weakness  was  betrayed  in  a  religious  longing  for  some- 
thing to  lean  on,  which  her  father  could  not  supply,  and 
which  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  transcendentalism 
of  Mr.  Channing,  whose  ministrations  the  family — Haw- 
thorne excepted  —  had  attended  in  Liverpool.  These 
tendencies,  and  even  their  hysterical  complication, 
are  suggested  in  the  picture  of  Hilda  in  St.  Peter's, 
written  in  England  a  year  after  Una's  illness.  "She 


168  LIFE  OF 

laid  her  forehead  on  the  marble  steps  before  the  altar, 
and  sobbed  out  a  prayer;  she  hardly  knew  to  whom, 
whether  Michael,  the  Virgin,  or  the  Father ;  she  hardly 
knew  for  what,  save  only  a  vague  longing  that  thus  the 
burden  of  her  spirit  might  be  lightened  a  little.  ...  A 
hope,  born  of  hysteric  trouble,  fluttered  in  her  breast. 
She  came  to  a  confessional  on  which  was  inscribed  PRO 
ANGLICA  LINGUA.  It  was  the  word  in  season  !  .  .  .  She 
did  not  think ;  she  only  felt.  Within  her  heart  was  a 
great  need.  Close  at  hand,  within  the  veil  of  the  con- 
fessional, was  the  relief." 

But  there  is  a  melancholy  contrast  between  Hilda's 
ideal  and  Una's  actual  fulfilment  of  the  "  prophetic  pic- 
ture." Hilda's  lamp  went  out,  her  doves  departed, 
because  the  confessional  had  proved  a  portal  of  imprison- 
ment in  the  Convent  of  the  Sacre  Cceur.  From  her 
Protestant  pilgrimage  to  Catholic  shrines,  ending  in  tem- 
porary captivity,  she  returned  to  be  a  happy  wife.  Una's 
physical  and  spiritual  natures  were,  like  her  father's,  fused 
into  one  life ;  her  spells  of  weakness  were  accompanied 
by  loss  of  mental  balance.  When  bereavement  of  her 
parents  was  added  to  her  physical  delicacy,  she  made  a 
brave  effort  at  self-reliance.  She  devoted  herself  to 
orphans  in  London,  with  an  orphan's  sympathy.  She 
received  confirmation  in  the  English  Church,  and  loved 
its  services.  Her  friends  rejoiced  that  Una's  lamp  was 
re-kindled,  and  her  dove  of  peace  returned;  and  pre- 
sently at  her  happy  betrothal.  Alas !  death  snatched 
away  her  lover,  and  Una  sank,  after  so  great  calamities. 
Her  golden  hair  was  grey  at  thirty-three.  With  the  fatal 
shaft  in  her  heart  she  could  only  carry  it  to  her  father, 


HA  WTHORNE.  169 

whose  spirit  symbolized  for  her  the  supreme  love,  and 
sought  something  like  her  little  oratory  at  Montauto. 
But  that  lost  bower  could  not  be  found.  In  its  place 
was  taken  a  cell  in  the  English  convent  at  Clewer,  where 
(1877)  her  brother  found  her,  at  midnight,  dead. 

In  the  character  of  Hilda,  in  "  Transformation," 
Hawthorne  has  projected,  as  it  were,  his  own  soul.  It 
was  he  who  from  the  hard  region  of  Puritanism  had 
come  to  kindle  a  lamp  and  set  a  flower  before  a  divine 
mother ;  but  to  do  this  in  the  solitude  of  his  indivi- 
duality. The  formalisms  and  superstitions  of  the  world 
can  reach  that  tower  only  as  white  doves.  The  devout 
artist  recognizes  the  Madonna  only  as  she  grew  genuinely, 
like  the  rose  which  the  New  England  maiden  so  simply 
laid  before  her,  from  her  lover's  bouquet.  The  Madonna 
and  her  Protestant  votary  had  travelled  to  their  tower  by 
the  same  road.  It  may  sound  a  far  cry  from  the  Colis- 
seum  to  Gallows  Hill,  Salem  ;  but  morally  they  are  the 
same.  Good  people  were  torn  by  wild  beasts  at  Salem 
also,  because  they  were  heretics  to  the  reigning  religion. 
There  was  no  moral  difference  between  Jupiter  Tonans 
at  Rome,  and  Jehovah  Tonans  in  Massachusetts.  The 
pilgrimage  of  New  England  from  deified  despotism  to 
the  maternal  deity,  in  all  but  sex,  of  Channing,  was  on 
the  same  spiritual  path  that  led  Rome  to  build  the 
Madonna's  shrine. 

Lady  Hobart,  who  now  resides  at  Montauto  Villa, 
informed  me  that  until  lately  there  grew  on  the  tower 
a  bush.  It  was  that,  no  doubt,  which  finds  a  mystical 
growth  in  the  romance  there  written.  "  He  [Kenyon] 
looked  about  him,  and  beheld  growing  out  of  the  stone 


170  LIFE  OF 

pavement,  which  formed  the  roof,  a  little  shrub,  with  green 
and  glossy  leaves.  It  was  the  only  green  thing  there ; 
and  heaven  knows  how  its  seeds  had  ever  been  planted, 
at  that  airy  height,  or  how  it  had  found  nourishment  for 
its  small  life,  in  the  chinks  of  the  stones ;  for  it  had  no 
earth,  and  nothing  more  like  soil  than  the  crumbling 
mortar,  which  had  been  crammed  into  the  crevices  in  a 
long  past  age."  Hawthorne's  new  spiritual  vision  now 
recognizes  evergreen  growths  where  his  religious  training 
taught  him  to  see  only  crumbling  idolatry. 

An  interesting  variant  of  "  The  Celestial  Railway  "  is 
imaginable,  which  should  describe  the  iron  track  on 
which  religious  opinion  travels  in  England  and  America. 
The  scientific  conception  of  unity  in  nature,  which  in- 
fluenced the  creed  of  Newton,  may  be  called,  in  an 
American  phrase,  a  new  departure.  From  that  grand 
station  the  rationalistic  railways  proceed  past  way-stations 
— pantheism,  optimism,  unitarianism,  monism — with  a 
regularity  like  that  of  the  Catholic  "  Stations  of  the 
Cross,"  or  the  stages  of  Bunyan's  pilgrimage.  A  new 
line  of  speculative  thought,  as  when  Samuel  Laing 
becomes  a  "  Modern  Zoroastrian,"  or  Hartmann  declares 
the  "  supreme  unhappiness  "  of  the  deity — strikes  the 
normal  Western  wayfarer  as  mere  eccentricity. 

It  is  a  singularity  of  Hawthorne's  career  that  he  never 
got  on  this  familiar  track  of  religious  "  progression,"  nor 
did  he  originate  any  other.  From  the  frequency  of 
fanatics,  Puritans,  ministers,  in  his  tales,  he  might  be 
supposed  to  have .  had  the  usual  experiences  of  a  New 
England  boy  bred  in  an  orthodox  household — suffering 
remorseless  sabbaths  and  painful  prayers.  But  the 


HA  WTHORNE,  171 

Hawthorne  home  in  Salem  seems  to  have  been  exception- 
ally free  from  religious  rigours.  He  seems  to  have  known 
there  neither  cant  nor  catechism;  his  earlier  writings 
betray  no  self-questionings  or  inner  misgivings.  There  is 
no  trace  of  trouble  about  his  soul.  He  was  never  "con- 
verted," and  never  joined  any  church.  He  was  not  what 
could  be  called  a  religious  man.  His  treatment  of 
ministers  and  pious  professions  are  those  of  an  intel- 
lectual observer,  or  an  artist  whose  neighbourhood 
supplied  mainly  those  models,  but  who  cared  for  these 
only  as  they  might  be  adaptable  to  his  pictures.  His 
moral  sense  was  quick,  and  a  fine  individual  character 
resulted ;  but  he  could  not  enter  into  a  cause,  like  that 
of  emancipation,  which  was  the  expansion  of  ethical 
sentiment  under  a  religious  enthusiasm.  The  cause  of 
the  slave  flowered  out  of  Channing's  faith  in  the  divinity 
of  human  nature — divinity  of  the  lowliest,  even  the  most 
repulsive.  Hawthorne  knew  nothing  of  such  idealization 
of  humanity  in  the  abstract.  He  evoked  from  the  gross 
mass  certain  types  of  character,  and  they  were  as  a 
gallery  amid  which  he  moved.  New  England  supplied 
no  other  gallery ;  and  its  churches  admitted  no  art  but 
music,  for  which  he  had  no  ear.  A  cold  alienation  from 
the  creed  that  had  made  his  two  magisterial  ancestors 
the  Nero  and  Caligula  of  Salem  had  developed  an 
antipathy  to  all  churches,  even  to  those  which  were  doing 
away  with  Puritanism  in  all  its  survivals. 

There  was  thus  a  sense  in  which  the  untransformed 
Faun  also  represented  Hawthorne.  The  Faun  at  the 
Capitol  attributed  to  Praxiteles,  while  described  with 
physiological  exactness,  is  subtly  touched  here  and  there 


172  LIFE  OF 

into  physiognomical  suggestiveness.1  One  is  now  re 
minded  of  our  arboreal  ancestor,  as  revealed  by  Darwin, 
and  now  of  Byron's  "  form  and  face  of  an  Apollo,  with 
the  feet  and  legs  of  a  sylvan  Satyr,"  as  disclosed — trea- 
cherously, Hawthorne  thought — by  Trelawny.  But  the 
sculptor's  art,  which  has  preserved  the  signs  of  inferior 
origin  only  in  graceful  "  survivals,"  is  carried  farther  by 
that  of  the  author,  who  harmonizes  the  complex  con- 
ception with  the  Miltonic  Adam.  "Adam  falls  anew, 
and  Paradise,  heretofore  in  unfaded  bloom,  is  lost 
again." 

This  immemorial  theme  had  travelled  from  ancient 
Palestine  to  England,  had  sailed  on  the  Mayflower  to 

1  One  error,  however,  occurs  in  Hawthorne's  description  of  the 
statue.  He  says  the  Faun's  "  nose  is  almost  straight,  but  very 
slightly  turned  inward,  thereby  acquiring  an  indescribable  charm  of 
geniality  and  humour."  This,  though  true  of  the  Faun  which  names 
the  adjoining  saloon,  is  not  true  of  Hawthorne's  Faun.  I  suspect 
this  is  a  proof-reader's  error  ;  for  the  more  humorous  character  of 
the  nez  retrousse  must  have  been  known  to  such  a  connoisseur  in 
noses  as  Hawthorne.  I  have  before  me  a  paper  of  his,  written  while 
editor  of  the  Bewick  Company's  Magazine,  in  which  he  gives  pas- 
sages from  an  old  book  on  Noses,  with  comments  : — "  '  A  Nose 
indifferently  long,  and  small  in  the  middle,  signifies  a  person  bold, 
rational,  honest,  soon  angry  but  soon  pleased.'  As  noses  go,  this  is 
worth  any  money.  It  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at.  '  A  Nose  every  way 
very  big,  very  long,  and  with  wide  nostrils,  denotes  a  person  more 
weak  than  wise,  fallacious,  subtle,  contentious,  luxurious,  vain- 
glorious, envious,  and  impertinently  curious.'  When  we  meet  this 
Nose  we  shall  hardly  refrain  from  giving  it  a  tweak.  '  A  Nose  con- 
veniently big,  and  reasonably  straight,  denotes  a  person  peaceful, 
meek,  faithful,  laborious,  diligent,  secret,  and  of  good  intellect.' 
Oh,  happy  nose  !  Mayest  thou  continually  inhale  the  scent  of  roses  ! 
And  may  we,  no  long  time  hence,  find  just  such  a  nose  in  a  fair 
lady's  face  ! " 


HA  WTHORNE.  173 

New  England,  was  there  preached  for  six  generations, 
and  journeyed  in  the  genius  of  Hawthorne,  over  land 
and  sea,  to  give  this  Faun  in  the  Capitol  a  new  soul  of 
which  its  sculptor  never  dreamed.  And  once  more  we 
find,  as  in  "The  Scarlet  Letter  "  (the  mark  of  Cain),  the 
"  House  of  the  Seven  Gables  "  (visitation  of  the  father's 
sins  on  the  children),  that  no  amount  of  alienation  from 
churches  could  keep  the  great  New  England  novelist 
from  breathing  the  biblical  atmosphere.  But  hitherto 
he  had  been  able  to  give  such  ideas  artistic  expression 
precisely  because  his  soul  stood  outside  them — as  Lan- 
dor's  Aspasia  says  the  poets  wrote  so  well  of  love 
because  they  never  loved.  But  in  the  atmosphere  of 
Rome  the  artistic  is  subordinated  to  the  religious  expres- 
sion. A  transformation  in  Hawthorne  preceded  the 
transformation  of  his  Marble  Faun.  He  had  not  the 
least  interest  in  pope,  priest,  or  pious  ceremonies,  but 
the  religion  pictured  in  the  galleries  and  monuments 
entered  the  sacred  retreat  where  eloquent  preachers  had, 
for  a  generation,  knocked  in  vain.  "  Occasionally  to-day 
I  was  sensible  of  a  certain  degree  of  emotion  in  looking 
at  an  old  picture ;  as,  for  example,  by  a  large,  dark,  ugly 
picture  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross  and  sinking  beneath 
it,  when,  somehow  or  other,  a  sense  of  His  agony,  and 
the  fearful  wrong  that  mankind  did  (and  does)  its 
Redeemer,  and  the  scorn  of  His  enemies,  and  the  sorrow 
of  those  who  loved  Him,  came  knocking  at  my  heart,  and 
got  entrance  there.  Once  more  I  deem  it  a  pity  that 
Protestantism  should  have  entirely  laid  aside  this  mode 
of  appealing  to  the  religious  sentiment."  This  is  pathetic ; 
the  great  man  at  fifty-four  begins  as  if  at  the  knee  of  a. 


174  LIFE  OF 

wiser  mother  than  Salem,  with  its  unlovely  dogmas  and 
churches,  had  been  to  him.  He  would  fain  do  better  by 
his  child.  "Una  spoke  with  somewhat  alarming  fervour 
of  her  love  for  Rome,  and  regret  at  leaving  it.  We  shall 
have  done  the  child  no  good  office  in  bringing  her  here, 
if  the  rest  of  her  life  is  to  be  a  dream  of  this  *  city  of  the 
soul,'  and  an  unsatisfied  yearning  to  come  back  to  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  nothing  elevating  and  refining  can  be 
really  injurious,  and  so  I  hope  she  will  always  be  better 
for  Rome,  even  if  her  life  should  be  spent  where  there 
are  no  pictures,  no  statues — nothing  but  the  dryness  and 
meagreness  of  a  New  England  village."  We  may  often 
read  between  the  lines  of  his  journals  how  homeless  his 
spirit  had  been.  Of  Michel  Angelo's  Fates  he  writes  : 
"I  remember  seeing  an  etching  of  this  when  a  child,  and 
being  struck,  even  then,  with  the  terrible,  stern,  pas- 
sionless seventy,  neither  loving  nor  hating  us,  that 
characterizes  these  ugly  old  women.  If  they  were  angry, 
or  had  the  least  spite  against  humankind,  it  would  render 
them  more  tolerable.  They  are  a  great  work,  containing 
and  representing  the  very  idea  that  makes  a  belief  in  fate 
such  a  cold  torture  to  the  human  soul."  This  is  the 
corpse  of  Puritanism  re-animated  for  a  confession  to 
Rome.  For  this  child  it  had  brought  from  barbarism  its 
altar  of  unhewn  stones.  It  might  even  have  been  better 
for  this  child  had  he,  after  the  earlier  fashion,  been  forced 
to  eat  the  stones  for  bread,  for  then  he  must  needs  have 
pulverized  some  of  them,  and  made  them  bear  other 
green  things  like  that  which  grew  from  the  chance  seed 
wafted  from  Michel  Angelo's  picture,  and  devoured  with 
such  pathetic  hunger.  As  it  was,  his  spiritual  starvation 


HA  WTHORNE.  175 

was  long  unconscious.  He  remarked  in  the  Vatican  a  very 
hungry  boy  who,  beside  the  great  porphyry  vase,  wished 
he  had  it  full  of  soup.  Rome  and  Salem  might  there 
have  exchanged  a  blush.  Rome  had  provided  her  child 
with  art  but  not  soup  ;  Salem  hers  with  soup  but  not  art. 
Hawthorne,  who  had  become  as  a  child  amid  these 
pictures,  may  have  felt  that  he  and  the  soupless  boy 
were  both  changelings.  The  marble  statues  said  to  him 
as  to  stolen  Mignon,  "  What's  this,  poor  child,  to  thee 
they've  done  ?  "  He  had  come  back  to  his  father's  hall. 
"  No  place  ever  took  so  strong  a  hold  of  my  being  as 
Rome,  nor  ever  seemed  so  close  to  me  and  so  strangely 
familiar." 

One  cannot  read  without  emotion  these  secret  records 
of  a  soul  for  the  first  time  discovering  that  it  had  been 
moving  about  amid  worlds  not  realized,  while  the  intellect 
is  still  but  half  conscious  of  the  heart's  sad  secret.  One 
hardly  knows  whether  laughter  or  tears  were  the  bitter 
response  to  Hawthorne's  anger  with  Carlo  Dolce  for 
sceptical  misgivings  inspired  by  his  picture  of  the 
"  Eternal  Father." 

"  It  is  the  All-powerless,  a  fair-haired,  soft,  con- 
sumptive deity,  with  a  mouth  that  has  fallen  open 
through  very  weakness.  ...  If  Carlo  Dolce  had  been 
wicked  enough  to  know  what  he  was  doing,  the  picture 
would  have  been  most  blasphemous — a  satire,  in  the 
very  person  of  the  Almighty,  against  all  incompetent 
rulers,  and  against  the  rickety  machine  and  crazy  action 
of  the  universe.  Heaven  forgive  me  for  such  thoughts 
as  this  picture  has  suggested !  .  .  .  I  wonder  what 
Michel  Angelo  would  have  said  to  this  painting." 


176  LIFE  OF 

Hawthorne  sees  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  what  Michel 
Angelo  would  say  of  it.  In  the  Jesus  of  the  Last 
Judgment  he  beholds  the  man,  sufficiently  strong- 
willed,  to  whom  the  reins  of  omnipotence  are  delivered 
at  the  last  day.  "  Above  sits  Jesus,  not  looking  in  the 
least  like  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  but,  with  uplifted  arm, 
denouncing  eternal  misery  on  those  whom  He  (sic]  came 
to  save.  I  fear  I  am  myself  among  the  wicked,  for  I 
found  myself  inevitably  taking  their  part,  and  asking  for 
at  least  a  little  pity,  some  few  regrets,  and  not  such  a 
stern,  denunciatory  spirit  on  the  part  of  Him  who  had 
thought  us  worth  dying  for."  Hawthorne  is  consoled 
at  last  by  the  Jesus  of  Fra  Angelico's  "Last  Judgment." 
"  Above  sits  Jesus,  with  the  throng  of  blessed  saints 
around  Him,  and  a  flow  of  tender  and  powerful  love 
in  His  own  face,  that  ought  to  suffice  to  redeem  all 
the  damned,  and  convert  the  very  fiends,  and  quench 
the  fires  of  hell.  At  any  rate  Fra  Angelico  had  a 
higher  conception  of  his  Saviour  than  Michel  Angelo."1 
And  Raphael  relieves  our  pilgrim  from  that  Doubting 
Castle  into  which  he  had  been  thrust  by  Carlo  Dolce's 
suggestion  of  the  "  crazy  action  of  the  universe." 
In  the  upper  and  lower  parts  of  the  Transfiguration, 
neither  aware  of  the  other,  he  finds  it  symbolical  of  "  the 
spiritual  shortsightedness  of  mankind  that,  amid  the 
trouble  and  grief  of  the  lower  picture,  not  a  single  in- 
dividual, either  of  those  who  seek  help  or  those  who 

1  But  the  Judge  is  looking  only  to  those  on  His  right ;  fortunately 
for  Fra  Angelico,  Hawthorne  did  not  observe  the  companion-picture 
near  by,  in  which  the  face  of  Christ  is  distorted  with  anger,  as  it 
turns  to  those  on  His  left. 


HA  WTHORNE.  177 

would  willingly  afford  it,  lifts  his  eyes  to  that  region,  one 
glimpse  of  which  would  set  all  right." 

Thus,  late  in  life,  Hawthorne  gathered  from  Italy's 
pictures  the  flowers  of  faith  which  had  been  strewn  in 
vain  at  his  feet  by  Emerson,  Channing,  Parker,  and 
many  another,  in  such  forms  as  language  could  paint. 
The  then  pictureless  New  England  had  been  for  this 
latter-day  Bunyan  a  sort  of  City  of  Destruction.  The 
imprisonment  of  his  genius  in  the  Liverpool  consulate 
may  have  been,  as  Bedford  gaol  to  his  forerunner,  the 
portal  to  spiritual  visions.  In  "  Transformation "  we 
follow  a  pious  pictorial  pilgrimage,  whose  visions  hover 
over  ancient  shrines  but  eclipse  their  legendary  lustre. 
The  persons  are  characters,  at  once  real  and  allegorical, 
representing,  as  we  have  seen,  the  thought  and  feeling 
of  the  American  and  the  Englishman  ;  and  the  Roman 
scenery  amid  which  they  act  their  imported  parts  is,  by 
subtle  process  of  selection  and  interpretation,  conformed 
to  the  new  spirit.  Hawthorne  has,  in  fact,  supplanted 
the  old  legends  of  Rome  with  a  new  set.  In  Hilda's 
Tower  I  observed  a  fresco,  painted  since  "  Transforma- 
tion "  appeared,  in  which  the  most  prominent  figure  is 
an  ape.  The  poor  creature  had  a  comical  suggestion  of 
trying  to  reclaim  his  legendary  rights  from  a  dove, 
represented  as  just  alighting  on  the  opposite  wall.  For 
centuries  before  its  invasion  by  Hilda  and  her  doves 
the  place  was  known  as  the  Palazzo  della  Scimmia,  and 
its  legend  was  of  a  babe  rescued  by  the  Virgin  from  the 
parapet  over  which  it  was  held  by  a  pet  monkey ;  in 
gratitude  for  which,  and  in  accordance  with  a  vow  made 
on  seeing  his  child's  peril,  the  owner  raised  there  the 

12 


178  LIFE  OF 

Madonna's  image,  and  ordained  that  the  lamp  should 
burn  perpetually  before  it.  Hawthorne  tells  the  legend 
in  his  Italian  journal  (i.  264),  but  in  "  Transformation  " 
there  is  no  faintest  hint  of  it.  He  will  not  have  any 
animal  associated  with  his  Beloved  less  etherial  than  the 
white  dove,  which  he  remembered  in  the  sculpture  at 
the  Capitol — the  dove  clasped  to  her  breast  by  a  child 
who  is  attacked  by  a  snake — "  symbol  of  the  human 
soul,  with  its  choice  of  Innocence  or  Evil  close  at  hand." 
The  painted  ape  will  never  recover  his  legend  :  it  is  no 
longer  the  tower  "  della  Scimmia,"  but  Hilda's  Tower. 
Even  Clelia,  the  Countess  Marone's  pretty  maid,  who 
guided  me  to  the  tower,  had  but  hazy  ideas  of  the  ape- 
legend,  but  evinced  a  blushing  pride  at  being  Hilda's 
successor  in  keeping  the  lamp  burning. 

The  old  ape-legend — of  which  there  are  variants  in 
Munich  and  elsewhere  —  is  of  much  interest  to  the 
student  of  folklore  and  mythology,  who  may  not  like 
Hawthorne's  disregard  of  this  and  other  legends.  Con- 
noisseurs in  art  and  archaeology  have  pointed  out  errors 
— sometimes  with  the  precision  of  a  man  of  science 
who  proposed  to  amend  Shakespeare's  phrase  about 
"  books  in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,  and 
good  in  everything."  Obviously  it  should  be  stones  in 
the  running  brooks,  and  sermons  in  books.  Hawthorne's 
awakened  religious  nature  was  too  overpowering  to  admit 
of  an  unbiassed  or  scientific  view  of  what  attracted  him 
in  Rome.  He  wrought  in  the  same  sincerity  and  the 
same  spirit  that  turned  temples  to  churches  and  gods  to 
saints.  This  was  the  man  who  had  come  to  Rome,  and 
this  the  strange  eye  that  was  turned  upon  it.  Mrs.  W. 


HA  WTHORNE.  179 

W.  Story  told  me  that  she  drove  with  him  along  the 
Appian  Way,  by  whose  interminable  memorials  of 
vanished  life  and  splendour  he  was  deeply  impressed. 
At  length  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  wind  was 
playing  on  telegraph-wires,  making  a  weird  music — now 
•of  low  moanings,  now  rising  to  screams,  or  sinking  into 
plaintive,  tremulous  sounds.  Hawthorne  asked  that  the 
carriage  should  stop ;  he  was  thrilled  by  these  sounds, 
and,  after  listening  long  in  silence,  said,  "  I  hear  the 
wailings  of  former  generations." 

Long  had  the  winds  blown  there  before  the  wires  were 
stretched  which  gave  thenTsuch  notes,  and  long  had  the 
burden  of  Rome  waited  for  such'utterance  as  it  found 
on  the  heart-strings  of  Hawthorne.  They  had  been 
attuned  under  the  burden  of  New  England's  sad  and 
guilty  past ;  the  cries  of  scourged_and  executed  witches, 
mingling  with  every  wind  from  Gallows  Hill,  the  sighs 
of  Hester  Prynne  with  the  cruel  Scarlet  Letter  on  her 
breast,  had  become  audible  on  them.  In  nearly  the 
same  words  that  he  had  written  concerning  Hester  he 
wrote  of  Beatrix  Cenci,  in  the  Barberini  palace.  "  It 
was  the  very  saddest  picture  ever'  painted  or  conceived, 
the  sense  of  which  came  to  the  observer  by  a  sort  of 
intuition.  It  was  a  sorrow  that  removed  this  beautiful 
girl  out  of  the  sphere  of  humanity,  and  set  her  in  a  far- 
off  region."  As  on  Gallows  Hill  he  forgot  the  landscape, 
and  Salem  embowered  with  elms,  in  his  vision  of  his 
Puritan  ancestors  looking  down  on  that  scene  of  their 
cruelties,  so  now  the  Coliseum's  grandeur  is  hidden  by 
•the  assemblage  of  remorseful  shades  looking  from  those 
tiers  of  broken  arches  on  the  arena  of  their  savage 


180  LIFE  OF 

pleasures.  He  overhears  a  conversation  between  Hadrian 
and  the  archangel  on  San  Angelo.  Hadrian,  complaining 
of  his  mausoleum's  treatment,  is  instructed  that  "  where 
a  warlike  despot  is  sown  as  seed,  a  fortress  and  a  prison 
are  the  only  possible  crop."  And  again  :  "All  that  rich 
sculpture  of  Trajan's  bloody  warfare,  twining  from  the 
base  of  the  pillar  to  its  capital,  may  be  but  an  ugly 
spectacle  for  his  ghostly  eyes,  if  he  considers  that  this 
huge  storied  shaft  must  be  laid  before  the  judgment- 
seat  as  a  piece  of  the  evidence  of  what  he  did  in  the 
flesh." 

Remembering  the  apathy  of  Hawthorne  concerning 
slavery  in  America,  one  cannot  help  perceiving  his 
limitations.  Ex-president  Pierce,  the  devastator  of  his 
country's  liberties,  came  to  Rome,  sat  sympathizingly 
besides  Una's  bedside,  and  no  doubt  joined  with  his  old 
college  friend  in  branding  ancient  oppressors.  The  two 
moving  about  Rome  recall  those  spirits  seen  by  Dante, 
whose  doom  was  to  see  only  what  was  remote,  all  that 
was  around  them  being  invisible.  We  must  be  content 
that  the  blood-stained  president  was  branded  under  the 
name  of  Hadrian  or  Trajan,  however  the  old  friend 
might  be  welcomed;  and  the  poor  negro  sympathized 
with,  if  only  in  person  of  the  European  pauper. 

Scholars  learned  in  the  language  and  arts  of  Italy  are 
sometimes  impatient  with  Hawthorne.  Mr.  Eugene 
Schuyler  (in  the  New  York  Nation,  July  n  and  18, 
1889)  says  that  "he  remembered  only  the  impressions 
which  had  been  made  on  him,  and  frequently  his  entries 
seem  like  impressions  of  his  impressions."  Robert 
Browning  shrewdly  answered  a  preacher  who  asked  his. 


HA  WTHORNE.  181 

opinion  of  his  sermon,  which  had  been  on  Nature  :  "  I 
might  have  been  better  satisfied  if,  instead  of  describing 
nature,  you  had  given  us  the  impression  made  by  nature 
on  you."     On  Rome  enough  has  been  written  ;  the  only 
useful  thing  Hawthorne  could  add  was  the  impression 
it  made  on  himself— his  very  Salem-and-Concord  self. 
His  friend   Curtis  relates   that   once,   when   looking  at 
a   poor    picture   in    a   country   inn,    in    Massachusetts, 
Hawthorne  said  to  a  friend,   "There  is  something  very 
charming  to  me  in  that  picture,  which  I  suppose  is  a 
•daub.    But  I  think  that  a  painter  is  entitled  to  the  credit 
of  all  the  good  things  that  anybody  finds  in  his  picture." 
This  may  be  provincialism,  but  it  is  a  sweet  provincialism, 
and   it  makes   Hawthorne's   Italian   journal  a  religious 
autobiography.     It  holds  him  to  his  point  of  view,  that 
is,  to  his  originality.     "  The  plastic  sense  was  not  strong 
in  Hawthorne,"  says  Mr.  Henry  James,  jun. ;  "  there  can 
be  no  better  proof  of  it  than  his  aversion  to  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  nude  in  sculpture."   That  this  is  not  quite 
true  is  shown  in  the  fact  that  "  Transformation  "  itself 
is  the  transfiguration  of  a  nude  statue.     That  Hawthorne 
was  at   first   repelled   by  such  nudity  is  true.      It  was 
mainly  from  a  high-minded  woman,  Mrs.  Jameson,  that 
he  learned  to  suspect  himself  of  error,  in  this  feeling, 
which  is  finally  relegated  to  o'ne  of  his  female  characters, 
where  it  is  quite  natural.     He  also  sat  at  the  feet  of  his 
friend  Story.     He  saw  the  "  Cleopatra  "  he  so  admired 
grow  under  the  sculptor's  hand,  and  it  was  an  educational 
experience.     There  is  not,  indeed,   very  much    nudity 
about  that  statue,  but  the  innocency  of  its  voluptuous- 
ness   gave    Hawthorne    a    sense    of    time -perspective. 


182  LIFE  OF 

Cleopatra  belonged  to  a  time  and  place  where  her 
draping  or  undraping  could  no  more  be  questioned  than 
her  Egyptian  blood,  or  the  serpent-symbol  on  her  brow. 
He  found  that  what  he  disliked  was  not  nudity  but 
nakedness — not,  that  is,  exposure  which  is  appropriate 
to  the  artistic  purpose,  but  that  which  is  inappropriate  to 
it.  We  presently  find  that  his  greatest  enthusiasm  is 
evoked  by  the  Medicean  Venus  at  Florence.  The  Puritan 
sentiment  lingered  just  enough  to  leave  us  an  impor- 
tant remark  concerning  that  statue,  which,  on  account 
of  its  attitude,  has  so  often  been  accused  of  mock 
modesty.  "  I  felt,"  writes  Hawthorne,  "  a  kind  of 
tenderness  farther-;  an  affection,  not  as  if  she  were  one 
woman,  but  all  womanhood  in  one.  Her  modest  attitude 
— which  before  I  saw  her  I  had  not  liked,  deeming  that 
it  might  be  an  artificial  shame — is  partly  what  unmakes 
her  as  a  heathen  goddess  and  softens  her  into  a  woman." 
From  other  examples  of  Hawthorne's  critical  insight 
I  select  one  of  intrinsic  interest.  Guido's  "  Angel  and 
Satan "  (Church  of  the  Capucins)  is  often  called  the 
"  Archangel  and  Lucifer ; "  but  this  is  the  millennial 
angel,  bearing  a  chain  for  the  devil — who  is  not  the 
starry  Lucifer,  new-fallen,  but  the  enemy  of  man,  stained 
and  disfigured  with  ages  of  evil.  The  most  chivalrous 
sympathizer  with  the  sufferer  in  a  combat  cannot  feel 
any  pity  with  this  cruel,  crafty,  demon — sum  of  every 
creature's  worst.  He  is  passionlessly,  organically  bad, 
and  Hawthorne  used  this  countenance  for  the  evil  being 
who  dogs  Miriam's  footsteps.  He  is  a  motiveless 
tormentor  whom'we  are  meant  not  to  pity ;  we  can  feel 
only  relief  when  he  is  pitched  over  the  Tarpeian  Rock. 


HA  WTHORNE.  183 

But  Hawthorne  suggests  that  in  Guide's  picture  there 
should  be  some  sign  of  a  struggle.  There  is  not  a 
loosed  string  of  the  dainty  sandal,  not  a  ruffled  feather 
of  the  angel's  wing,  to  indicate  that  there  has  been  any 
combat.  The  criticism  has  rightly  adhered  to  the 
picture.  It  cannot  be  said  that  there  is  no  sign  of  a 
combat  because  the  angel  represents  omnipotence,  for 
the  angel  has  brought  a  weapon.  The  far-reaching 
import  of  Hawthorne's  criticism  was  impressed  on  me 
by  a  picture  at  Sorrento,  of  the  same  subject,  by  Sanga- 
relli.  Here  the  fiend's  eyes  expand  with  surprise,  as 
well  they  may,  for  the  angel,  under  whose  tiny  foot  he 
lies,  is  slight  as  a  maiden  of  seventeen,  and  bears  no 
weapon  at  all.  This  angel  bears  on  the  left  arm  a  shield 
barely  large  enough  to  hold  the  words,  "  Quis  UT  DEUS," 
and  the  weaponless  right  hand  points  upward  to  the 
source  of  this  subduing  strength  —  the  Dove.  This 
picture,  I  felt,  was  painted  by  an  artistic  Hawthorne, 
who  perceived  that  if  Satan  were  conquered  by  a  carnal 
weapon  there  should  be  some  sign  of  struggle,  and  who 
preferred  his  vision  of  good  overcoming  evil  with  good. 
This  little  angel  seems,  indeed,  to  be  the  child  sculptured 
in  the  Capitol,  attacked  by  a  snake  and  pressing  the 
dove  to  her  breast,  in  a  further  phase :  here  the  dove 
hovers  over  the  child,  and  the  demon  is  under  the  little 
feet. 

On  the  evening  of  May  15,  1858,  nearly  four  months 
after  Hawthorne  reached  Rome,  his  friend  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, an  American  artist,  guided  him  to  the  Via  Portu- 
ghese,  and  showed  him  the  tower,  with  its  Virgin  and 
ever-burning  lamp  (which,  whatever  it  did  then,  now 


184  LIFE  OF 

burns  only  at  night),  which  play  such  an  important  part 
in  "Transformation."  Hawthorne  records  the  legend 
in  his  journal  without  any  moral  reflections.  It  was  by 
comparatively  slow  steps  that  he  came  to  recognize  the 
significance  of  that  shrine.  Among  all  the  entries  in 
his  journal  of  the  first  winter  in  Rome  I  can  discover 
no  serious  impression  made  by  any  picture  or  statue  of 
the  Virgin.  We  have  seen  how  distressed  he  was  by  the 
wrathful  Christ  in  Michel  Angelo's  "Last  Judgment." 
He  mentions  the  "  grim  saints "  around  the  inexorable 
judge,  but  fails  to  see  the  Mother  at  his  side,  in  whom 
the  artist  had  painted  all  the  compassion  that  Hawthorne 
felt,  and  for  which  he  looked  in  the  "Saviour."  Michel 
Angelo  had  painted  the  Divine  compassionateness  in 
the  maternal  being  who  had  been  evolved  to  represent 
it.  Puritanism  had  eliminated  the  Madonna,  but  for 
Hawthorne,  and  other  hearts  that  flowered  above  that 
thorny  stem,  Jesus  had  absorbed  the  Madonna  and 
revealed  her  gentle  features.  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into 
everlasting  fire"  had  faded  out  of  the  New  England 
scholar's  Bible.  By  the  maternal  Jesus,  Hawthorne 
had  judged  the  ancient  monuments  of  Rome,  and  it 
was  some  time  before  he  perceived  that,  in  Italy,  it  was 
the  feminine  nature  which  had  come  to  symbolize  the 
softly  subduing  force  to  which  its  cruel  Caesarism,  pagan 
and  Christian,  steadily  surrendered. 

It  was  in  Florence  that  Hawthorne  first  began  to 
observe  carefully  pictures  of  the  Virgin.  Those  of 
Raphael,  Perugino,  Correggio,  are  "  stations "  of  his 
pilgrimage  to  that  shrine  where  Hilda — his  self-delineated 
soul — is  kneeling.  He  is  astonished  now  at  meeting 


HA  WTHORNE.  185 

his  old  undevout  self  in  a  prosaic  Englishman.  "  I  liked 
the  man,  and  should  be  glad  to  know  him  better.  As 
for  his  criticism,  I  am  sorry  to  remember  only  one.  It 
was  upon  a  picture  of  the  Nativity,  by  Correggio,  in  the 
Tribune,  where  the  mother  is  kneeling  before  the  Child 
and  adoring  it  in  an  awful  rapture,  because  she  sees  the 
eternal  God  in  its  baby  face  and  figure.  The  English- 
man was  highly  delighted  with  this  picture,  and  began 
to  gesticulate,  as  if  dandling  a  baby,  and  to  make  a 
chirruping  sound.  It  was  to  him  merely  a  representation 
of  a  mother  fondling  her  infant." 

These  passages  were  written  at  the  time  that  Haw- 
thorne was  blocking  out  his  Faun  novel,  while  Una 
sat  near  in  her  tower,  and  perhaps  knelt  in  her 
oratory. 

The  family  had  left  Rome,  May  24,  1858,  and  after  a 
drive  through  Soracte,  Terni,  Foligno,  Assisi,  Perugia, 
Passignano,  Arezzo,  Incisa,  reached  Florence  early  in 
June.  "  This  journey  from  Rome  has  been  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  uncareful  interludes  of  my  life."  The 
next  two  months  were  passed  in  Florence,  in  the  Casa  del 
Bello,  in  luxurious  enjoyment  of  pictures,  drives,  studios, 
and  artists — Landor,  then  rapidly  sinking,  he  did  not 
meet,  but  enjoyed  the  Brownings.  He  had  charming 
interviews  with  his  countryman,  Hiram  Powers,  enjoying 
his  racy  narratives  of  early  life  in  Cincinnati,  and  the 
Inferno  he  made  there  with  wax  figures,  as  well  as  his 
statues.  Powers  had  obtained  for  him  the  beautiful 
abode  near  his  own.  He  could  not  understand  the 
alliance  of  such  a  man  with  Pierce,  but  they  had  many 
feelings  in  common,  and  used  to  sit  together  on  the 


186  LIFE  OF 

house-top  dreaming  of  invisible  worlds  and  intelligences. 
Early  in  July  the  Brownings  left  for  the  seaside,  and 
the  Hawthornes  went  to  reside  at  Montauto  Villa.  In 
a  letter  of  July  18,  1858,  now  before  me,  Powers  writes 
to  a  friend:  "The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables  is  very 
domestic,  does  not  seem  inclined  to  visit  his  neighbours 
much,  and  when  he  does  his  stay  is  short."  Hawthorne 
had  now,  indeed,  called  around  him  other  companions, — 
Donatello,  Hilda,  and  the  rest.  From  the  ancient  tower, 
whence  imprisoned  Savonarola  looked  on  the  city  where 
his  stake  was  prepared,  Hawthorne  gazed  on  the  beau- 
tiful hills.  He  could  almost  see  the  garden  where 
Boccaccio  pictured  his  story-telling  circle.  I  have  heard 
that,  when  he  ascended  the  tower,  he  used  to  draw  the 
last  ladder  up  after  him.  I  was  hospitably  admitted  by 
Lady  Hobart,  the  present  occupant,  to  the  study  in 
which  "Transformation  "  was  written,  and  recognized  in 
the  pretty  nymphs  and  Cupids  on  its  ceiling  the  "  angels 
and  cherubs  "  which  they  appeared  to  the  author's  un- 
sophisticated first  glance. 

Among  other  interesting  experiences  at  Florence  were 
some  in  "Spiritualism."  Miss  Ada  Shepherd,  a  gover- 
ness in  the  Hawthorne  family,  "  developed "  into  a 
writing  medium.  "  Her  integrity,"  says  Hawthorne, 
"is  absolutely  indubitable,  and  she  herself  totally  dis- 
believes in  the  spiritual  authenticity  of  what  is  commu- 
nicated through  her  medium."  Hawthorne  had  no 
philosophical  objection  to  hypnotic  marvels.  His  feeling 
on  such  matters  is  suggested  in  a  note  (sent  me  by  Mr. 
W.  R.  Benjamin)  written  to  Elizabeth  Peabody  when 
leaving  the  Consulate. 


HA  IVTHORNE.  187 

' '  And  the  very  fact  of  my  speaking  so  implies  all  the  love  and 
respect  which,  because  I  speak  so,  you  are  ready  to  disbelieve.  As 

for  Miss ,  I  have  long  ago  taken  her  measure,  though  she  has 

failed  to  take  mine.  What  you  tell  me  about  the  letter  is  very 
curious,  and  it  goes  to  confirm  my  previous  idea  of  such  revelations. 
A  seeress  of  this  kind  will  not  afford  you  any  miraculous  insight 
into  a  person's  character  and  .mind ;  she  will  merely  discover, 
through  the  medium  of  the  letter,  what  another  person,  of  just  the 
same  natural  scope  and  penetration  as  the  seeress,  would  discover 
normally  by  personal  intercourse  and  observation  of  the  person 
described.  Thus  her  revelations  (like  all  our  conceptions  of  other 
person's  characters)  have  some  truth  and  much  error." 

Julian  Hawthorne  tells  an  astonishing  story  about  the 
experiments  with  the  governess  at  Villa  Montauto,  near 
Florence.  One  day  the  name  of  "  Mary  Rondel  "  was 
written  by  the  medium.  Mary  said  that  in  her  life  on 
earth  she  had  been  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
Hawthorne  family,  and  wanted  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's 
sympathy.  Hawthorne  remembered  nothing  of  any 
such  person  ;  the  matter  was  dismissed  and  forgotten  ; 
but,  after  Hawthorne's  death,  he — Julian — discovered 
in  family  papers  that  Daniel  Hawthorne,  grandfather  of 
our  author,  had  indeed  had  a  love  affair  with  one  "  Mary 
Rondel."  Julian  was  about  twelve  years  of  age  at  the 
time  of  the  manifestation,  and  probably  got  his  account 
by  hearsay.  According  to  Hawthorne  ("French  and 
Italian  Note-Books,"  ii.  145)  the  name  written  was 
Mary  Runnel — not  Rondel — nor  does  he  mention  that 
she  wished  his  sympathy,  or  sent  him  any  message. 
"  The  other  spirits,"  he  says,  "  discredited  the  veracity 
of  Mary,  who  frequently  manifested  herself,  and  when- 
ever there  was  any  mistake  or  falsehood  the  odium  was 
laid  on  her."  "  The  whole  matter,"  he  adds,  "  seems  to 


188  LIFE  OF 

me  a  sort  of  dreaming  awake.  It  resembles  a  dream, 
in  that  the  whole  material  is  from  the  first  in  the 
drearner's  mind,  though  concealed  at  various  depths 
below  the  surface ;  the  dead  appear  alive,  as  they  always 
do  in  dreams ;  unexpected  combinations  occur,  as 
continually  in  dreams ;  the  mind  speaks  through  the 
various  persons  of  the  drama,  and  sometimes  astonishes 
itself  with  its  own  wit,  wisdom,  and  eloquence,  as  often 
in  dreams  ;  but  in  both  cases  the  intellectual  manifesta- 
tions are  really  of  a  very  flimsy  nature.  Mary  Runnel 
is  the  only  personage  who  does  not  come  evidently  from 
dreamland ;  and  she,  I  think,  represents  that  lurking 
scepticism,  that  sense  of  unreality,  of  which  we  are 
often  conscious,  amid  the  wild  phantasmagoria  of  a 
dream.  I  should  be  glad  to  believe  in  the  genuineness 
of  these  spirits,  if  I  could ;  but  the  above  is  the  con- 
clusion to  which  my  soberest  thoughts  tend." 

Hawthorne  was  pretty  well  acquainted  with  his  family 
history,  and  his  intimation  that  Mary  Runnel  did  not 
come  from  dreamland  suggests  that  he  had  some  remem- 
brance of  a  note  concerning  her,  and  of  his  grandfather's 
romance.  Miss  Shephard,  who  enjoyed  the  family 
intimacy,  may  have  seen  or  heard  the  name,  and  for- 
gotten it ;  or  the  resemblance  between  the  names  of  the 
spirit  and  Daniel's  sweetheart  may  be  a  curious  coin- 
cidence. 

Julian  Hawthorne  is  mistaken  in  his  impression  that 
the  Brownings  were  present  at  these  seances.  Robert 
Browning  told  Mr.  Story  that  neither  he  nor  his  wife 
was  present  on  any  such  occasion,  and  that  they  were 
never  at  the  Villa  Montauto  at  all.  It  is,  indeed,  a  pity 


HA  WTHORNE.  189 

that  Robert  Browning  was  not  present,  for,  as  Hawthorne 
says,  the  "phenomena"  generally  disappeared  under  his 
powerful  gripe.  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  it  should  be  stated, 
was  inclined  to  Spiritualism.  Under  the  circumstances 
the  only  scrutinizer  present  could  hardly  be  very  rigid ; 
but  he  recognized  in  the  medium's  "  messages "  only 
such  things  as  were  likely  to  be  in  his  wife's  mind,  and 
concluded  that  the  transference  was  "  mesmeric." 

The  Hawthornes  returned  to  Rome  after  the  middle 
of  October,  1858.  It  was  during  this  second  winter  in 
Rome  that  Una's  illness  occurred ;  and,  indeed,  I  have 
in  this  chapter  dealt  with  the  events  of  Hawthorne's 
sojourn  in  Italy  without  careful  distinctions  of  place  and 
time.  But  the  time  came  for  leaving  the  beautiful  land 
for  ever.  On  May  26,  1859,  Hawthorne  passes  the 
morning  in  revisiting  certain  places.  "  Methought  they 
never  looked  so  beautiful,  nor  the  sky  so  bright  and 
blue.  I  saw  Soracte  on  the  horizon,  and  I  looked  at 
everything  as  if  for  the  last  time ;  nor  do  I  wish  ever 
to  see  any  of  these  objects  again,  though  no  place  ever 
took  so  strong  a  hold  of  my  being  as  Rome,  nor  ever 
seemed  so  close  to  me  and  so  strangely  familiar.  I  seem 
to  know  it  better  than  my  birthplace,  and  to  have  known 
it  longer." 

Rome  was,  indeed,  the  place  of  his  new  birth.  It 
could  not,  however,  give  a  congenial  home  to  the  spirit 
it  had  awakened  any  more  than  his  first  birthplace.  So 
far  as  Rome  is  related  to  him  it  is  inseparable.  The 
pilgrim  bears  away  the  interpretations,  and  does  not  wish 
to  return  to  the  House  of  the  Interpreter.  And  mean- 
while Rome  remains  serenely  unaware  that  New  England 


190  LIFE  OF 

has  come,  and  looked,  and  is  driving  off  in  a  coach  to 
Civita  Vecchia — to  the  New  World.  "  Transformation  " 
has  not  been  translated  into  Italian,  and  it  is  pretty 
certain  that  the  average  Italian  could  not  understand  it. 
Rome  is  as  unaware  as  the  Marble  Faun  that  it  has 
been  turned  into  a  fable.  Our  driver,  in  the  Borghese 
gardens,  looks  incredulous  when  we  bid  him  stop  at 
a  space  where  we  see  Donatello  and  Miriam,  the 
contadinas  and  French  soldiers  and  English  tourists, 
and  hear  the  harp  and  the  tambourine  which  have  set 
them  all  into  their  mad  sylvan  dance,  presently  to  melt 
into  air,  like  Prospero's  insubstantial,  but  never-ending, 
masque.  W.  D.  Howells,  in  his  delightful  "Italian 
Journeys,"  speaks  of  visiting  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  not 
because  of  those  anciently  thrown  over  it,  but  because 
of  Miriam  and  Donatello.  Thousands  have  gone  there 
for  the  same  reason,  but  no  impression  has  the  new 
legend  made  on  the  old  rock.  We  asked  the  custodian 
the  spot  at  which  the  old  monk  fell  and  was  killed.  She 
promptly  replied,  "  He  was  not  killed  at  all.  The 
newspapers  said  so ;  but  he  was  taken  to  the  hospital 
and  is  now  quite  well  ! "  In  his  artful  legend  of 
Memmius,  the  heathen  spy  on  the  Christian  refugees 
of  the  catacomb  (St.  Calixtus),  Hawthorne  has  caught 
the  very  trick  and  accent  of  Roman  folklore, — for 
instance,  of  Malchus,  who,  unconverted  by  the  miracu- 
lous mercy  that  healed  his  smitten  ear,  must  journey  till 
Judgment  Day  round  a  subterranean  pillar.  We  asked 
our  guide  whether  he  had  ever  heard  of  this  Memmius 
haunting  the  catacomb,  vainly  seeking  daylight.  Think- 
ing we  might  be  apprehensive,  he  vehemently  declared, 


HA  WTHORNE.  191 

"  I  have  been  here  night  and  day  these  thirty  years 
and  never  saw  or  heard  of  any  ghost  here  yet."  The 
old  priest  selling  photographs  at  the  entrance  said, 
"  There  are  souls  so  wicked  that  they  are  not  permitted 
to  rest,  and  this  Memmius,  if  he  did  as  you  say,  was 
very  wicked.  But  no  such  phantom  was  ever  known 
here."  So  moves  on  old  Rome,  the  graceful  furry  ears 
impenetrable  to  the  new  Orphic  strain  to  which  the 
walls  of  a  new  city  are  steadily  rising  around  it. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

HAWTHORNE  was  eager  to  reach  England  and 
write  his  romance.  He  enjoyed  his  voyage  on 
the  Mediterranean,  but  hurried  through  France  and 
Switzerland.  There  was  some  stay  at  Avignon,  and  at 
Geneva,  but  no  incidents  occurred  beyond  ordinary 
sight-seeing.  Hawthorne  had  really  been  homesick  ever 
since  he  left  Concord,  and  his  face  shone  as  it  was  now 
turned  homeward.  He  intended  to  proceed  immedi- 
ately, and  wrote  on  to  have  passages  from  Liverpool 
secured  at  once.  After  posting  the  letter,  at  Geneva, 
he  writes  :  "  It  makes  my  heart  thrill,  half  pleasantly, 
half  otherwise ;  so  much  nearer  does  this  step  seem  to 
bring  the  home  whence  I  have  now  been  absent  six 
years,  and  which,  when  I  see  it  again,  may  turn  out 
to  be  not  my  home  any  longer.  I  likewise  wrote  to 
Bennoch,  though  I  know  not  his  present  address  ;  but  I 
should  deeply  grieve  to  leave  England  without  seeing  him. 
He  and  Henry  Bright  are  the  only  two  men  in  England 
to  whom  I  shall  be  much  grieved  to  bid  farewell." 

These,  indeed,  were  the  only  two  Englishmen  whom 
Hawthorne  as  yet  knew.  And  Henry  Bright  knew  him. 
One  of  the  cleverest  things  ever  written  about  him  was 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  193 

Henry  Bright's  "  Song  of  Consul  Hawthorne,"  printed 
in  Julian  Hawthorne's  work  : — 

"  Should  you  ask  me,  '  Who  is  Hawthorne  ? 
Who  this  Hawthorne  that  you  mention  ? ' 
I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
'  He's  a  Yankee,  who  has  written 
Many  books  you  must  have  heard  of  ; 
For  he  wrote  "  The  Scarlet  Letter  " 
And  "  The  House  of  Seven  Gables," 
Wrote,  too,  "  Rappacini's  Daughter," 
And  a  lot  of  other  stories  ; — 
Some  are  long,  and  some  are  shorter  ; 
Some  are  good,  and  some  are  better. 
And  this  Hawthorne  is  a  Consul, 
Sitting  in  a  dismal  office, — 
Dark  and  dirty,  dingy  office, 
Full  of  mates,  and  full  of  captains, 
Full  of  sailors  and  of  niggers, — 
And  he  lords  it  over  Yankees. '  .   .  . 
Do  you  ask  me,  '  Tell  me  further 
Of  this  Consul,  of  this  Hawthorne  ? ' 
I  would  say,  '  He  is  a  sinner, — 
Never  goes  inside  a  chapel, 
Only  sees  outsides  of  chapels, 
Says  his  prayers  without  a  chapel  ! 
I  would  say  that  he  is  lazy, 
Very  lazy,  good-for-nothing  ; 
Hardly  ever  goes  to  dinners, 
Never  goes  to  balls  or  soirees  ; 
Thinks  one  friend  worth  twenty  friendly  ; 
Cares  for  love,  but  not  for  liking ; 
Hardly  knows  a  dozen  people.'  " 

But  a  dozen  was  too  large  a  number,  when  this  witty 
Hiawatha-rhyme,  which  greatly  pleased  Hawthorne,  was 
written.  He  resolved  to  remain  another  year  in  Eng- 

13 


194  LIFE  OF 

land,  in  order  to  re-write  and  publish  "  Transformation." 
Rome  and  Florence  had  greatly  humanized  him,  and, 
but  for  the  necessity  of  finishing  his  romance,  he  would 
probably  have  enjoyed  a  free  year  in  London.  As  it  was, 
after  the  work  (completed  at  Redcar  and  Leamington) 
was  in  the  hands  of  his  publishers — Smith  and  Elder — 
in  February,  1860,  he  passed  nearly  four  pleasant  months 
in  London  and  Bath.  He  visited  Whitby,  and  Coventry, 
where  he  met  the  Brays  and  Hennells.1  In  May  he  was 
the  guest  of  the  Motleys  for  some  days — a  most  happy 
visit.  He  had  left  his  family  in  Leamington,  and  daily 
posted  to  them  letters  written  for  him  by  Una  before 
he  left.  He  was  in  his  merriest  mood.  "  I  dined  with 
the  Motleys  at  Lord  Dufferin's,  on  Monday  evening,  and 
there  met,  among  a  few  other  notable  people,  Mrs. 
Norton,  a  dark,  comely  woman,  who  doubtless  was  once 
most  charming,  and  still  has  charms,  at  above  fifty  years 
of  age."  "You  would  be  stricken  dumb,"  he  says  in 
a  letter,  "  to  see  how  quietly  I  accept  a  whole  string  of 
invitations.  .  .  .  The  stir  of  this  London  life,  somehow 
or  other,  has  done  me  a  wonderful  deal  of  good,  and  I 
feel  better  than  for  months  past."  He  sat  to  a  German 

1  At  Coventiy  he  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  Bill.  My  friend,  Mrs. 
Charles  Bray,  writes :  "  My  husband  and  I  were  invited  to  meet 
him  at  dinner ;  and  as  he  took  me  in  to  dinner  he  sat  next  to  me, 
and  I  think  talked  exclusively  about  Miss  Evans,  asking  questions 
of  all  kinds  about  her,  which  I  was  very  glad  to  answer  to  one  so 
appreciative  and  so  interesting  as  himself.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
men  of  genius  whose  personality  corresponded  with  the  ideal  we 
had  formed  of  him  ;  and  to  this  day  I  can  recall  vividly  his  modest, 
almost  shy,  manner,  and  his  very  expressive  and  strongly  intellectual 
face." 


HA  WTHORNE.  195 

sculptor,  and,  at  Motley's  request,  allowed  his  photograph 
to  be  taken  by  Mayall, — an  excellent  one.  He  chatted 
with  Tom  Hughes  and  Layard  at  the  Cosmopolitan  Club 
on  Sunday  evenings,  dined  with  Henry  Chorley  of  the 
Athtnczum,  and  breakfasted  with  Richard  Monckton  Milnes 
(Lord  Houghton).  He  visited  Leigh  Hunt,  proprio  motu  / 
He  was  invited  by  Samuel  Lucas,  editor  of  Once  a  Week, 
to  write  a  romance  for  that  publication,  and  name  his 
own  terms.  All  this  sweetened  his  last  days  in 
England.  He  could  not  indeed  escape  from  his  doom 
of  shyness  when  in  company,  but  bore  an  amiable 
aspect.  Lord  Dufferin  told  me  that  at  the  dinner  at 
his  house  Hawthorne  did  not  indeed  talk  much,  but 
manifested  interest  in  those  present  and  in  what  was 
said.  "And  we  felt  at  every  moment  that  we  were 
in  the  presence  of  those  large  wonderful  eyes ! "  Shy 
though  he  was,  Hawthorne  was  never  confused  in  com- 
pany. When  addressed  his  reply  was  to  the  point.  In 
a  discussion  of  some  sentence  in  the  Queen's  speech, 
whose  grammar  was  questioned,  Hawthorne,  appealed  to, 
remarked,  "  Surely  the  Queen  may  do  what  she  will  with 
her  own."  He  also  amazed  his  friends  by  the  ease  and 
wit  of  his  after-dinner  speeches.  He  especially  enjoyed 
one  of  the  free-and-easy  evenings  at  the  Working  Men's 
College,  where  he  was  taken  by  (Judge)  Thomas  Hughes. 
The  songs  happened  to  be  of  the  patriotic  kind,  and 
Hawthorne  was  delighted ;  he  fairly  surrendered  to  these 
Englishmen  when  they  sang  the  "  Tight  Little  Island," 
and  ran  up  the  flag.  He  said  afterwards,  "  I  never 
before  understood  this  English  feeling." 

Nevertheless,  despite  this  final  spurt,  it  was  too  late 


196  LIFE  OF 

for  Hawthorne  to  get  what  England  had  for  him.  This 
was  certainly  not  the  fault  of  England.  Lord  Houghton, 
the  chief  host  of  literary  guests,  was  unwearied  in  his 
efforts  to  beguile  Hawthorne,  even  before  his  departure 
for  Italy,  into  the  London  circle.  Houghton  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  Hawthorne  had  some  personal  dislike 
for  him,  which  was  far  from  the  fact.  Hawthorne  was 
simply  one  of  the  later  "  survivals "  of  the  old  anti- 
English  democracy  come  down  from  the  Revolution, 
and  preserved  with  care  in  the  heavy  atmosphere  of  his 
odious  consulate  in  Liverpool.  He  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  Elizabethan  Age,  and  never  saw  the  Victorian  Age 
at  all.  His  book,  "Our  Old  Home,"  is  a  sort  of 
antediluvian  record.  When,  in  that  volume,  venturing 
out  of  his  happy  intimacy  with  the  ancient  worthies  of 
Leamington  or  Stratford,  Hawthorne  described  the 
Englishwoman  as  made  up  of  steaks  and  sirloins,  there 
was  an  amusingly  anachronistic  tone  of  democratic 
defiance  in  the  criticism.  The  Times  summed  it  up 
as  the  Yankee  saying,  "  My  wife's  prettier  than  yours." 
Punch  remarked  that  the  opinion  was  all  the  more 
weighty  because  of  Hawthorne's  well-known  dash  and 
address  in  society.  Henry  Bright  wrote  to  him,  "  Mrs. 
Heywood  says  to  my  mother,  *  I  really  believe  you  and 
I  were  the  only  ladies  he  knew  in  Liverpool,  and  we  are 
not  like  beefsteaks.'"  So  far  as  the  life  of  the  English 
people  was  concerned,  Hawthorne  might  have  written  a 
better  book  had  he  never  left  Concord.  But  "Our  Old 
Home  "  should  be  taken  as  the  Whigs  took  the  bio- 
graphy of  Pierce — as  a  romance.  To  Pierce,  this 
democratic  fling  at  England  is  appropriately  dedicated. 


HA  WTHORNE.  197 

Its  chapters  are,  indeed,  full  of  romantic  interest, 
all  the  more  entertaining  by  the  interwoven  sketches 
of  reality — the  best  of  these  being  that  of  poor  Delia 
Bacon. 

Hawthorne  was  astonished  and  distressed  at  the 
indignation  "Our  Old  Home  "  excited  in  England.  He 
protested  that  in  his  comparisons  of  the  two  peoples  the 
balance  was  almost  invariably  cast  against  his  own.. 
"  They  do  me  great  injustice  in  supposing  I  hate  them. 
I  would  as  soon  hate  my  own  people."  When  he  came 
to  think  over  the  matter,  to  see  England  in  the  distance 
—his  small  consular  worries  forgotten,  his  party  faith 
shaken  by  the  war — I  suspect  that  he  began  to  realize 
his  failure  to  make  the  most  of  his  irrecoverable 
opportunity.  In  1863,  when  my  wife  was  about  to  leave 
Concord,  where  we  had  resided,  and  join  me  in  London, 
Hawthorne — who  had  been  very  kind  to  her  in  my 
absence — showed  her  his  many  photographs,  and  ex- 
pressed his  strong  hope  of  soon  returning  to  England. 
"  Una  longs  for  England,  and  so  do  I."  Alas !  when 
Una  sailed  it  had  to  be  without  him.  When  death's 
hand  was  strong  upon  him,  he  wrote,  "  If  I  could  but 
go  to  England  now,  I  think  that  the  sea-voyage  and  the 
'old  home'  might  set  me  all  right."  They  were  nearly 
his  last  words. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

WHEN  Hawthorne  returned  to  America  his  ac- 
quaintances generally  remarked  the  greater  ease 
of  his  manners.  This  is  mentioned  in  a  note  before  me 
from  a  lady  of  Boston,  who  often  entertained  him  in  her 
house.  "The  self-consciousness  of  Hawthorne,  which 
men  called  his  shyness,  was  a  natural  concomitant  of 
his  solitary  life  and  extreme  sensitiveness.  In  England 
he  lost  something  of  this,  you  know,  but  it  was  another 
proof  of  the  subtle  connection  between  our  physical  and 
spiritual  natures  more  easy  to  discern  than  to  compre- 
hend." He  impressed  me — the  present  writer — as  of 
much  nobler  presence  than  formerly,  and  certainly  he 
was  one  of  the  finest  looking  of  men.  I  observed  him 
closely  at  a  dinner  of  the  Literary  Club,  in  Boston,  the 
great  feature  of  which  was  the  presence  of  Hawthorne, 
then  just  from  Europe  (July,  1860).  His  great  athletic 
frame  was  softened  by  its  repose,  which  was  the  more 
striking  beside  the  vivacity  of  Agassiz,  at  whose  side  he 
sat — himself  a  magnificent  man  in  appearance.  Haw- 
thorne's massive  brow  and  fine  aquiline  nose  were  of 
such  commanding  strength  as  to  make  the  mouth  and 
chin  seem  a  little  weak  by  contrast.  The  upper  lip  was 


LIFE  OF  HA  WTHORNE.  199 

hidden  by  a  thick  moustache ;  the  under  lip  was  some- 
what too  pronounced,  perhaps.  The  head  was  most 
shapely  in  front,  but  at  the  back  was  singularly  flat. 
This  peculiarity  appears  in  a  bust  of  Hawthorne  now  in 
the  possession  of  his  friend  and  banker,  Mr.  Hooker, 
at  Rome.  It  is  by  Phillips,  and  is  especially  interest- 
ing as  representing  the  author  in  early  life,  before  the 
somewhat  severe  mouth  was  modified  by  a  moustache. 
The  eyes  were  at  once  dark  and  lucid,  very  large  but 
never  staring,  incurious,  soft  and  pathetic  as  those  of 
a  deer.  When  addressed  a  gracious  smile  accompanied 
his  always  gentle  reply,  and  the  most  engaging  expression 
suffused  his  warm  brown  face.  The  smile,  however,  was 
sweet  only  while  in  the  eyes ;  when  it  extended  to  the 
mouth  it  seemed  to  give  him  pain.  There  must  have 
been  battles  between  those  soft  eyes  and  this  mouth. 
His  voice  was  sweet  and  low,  but  suggested  a  reserve 
of  quick  and  powerful  intelligence.  In  conversation  the 
trait  that  struck  me  most  was  his  perfect  candour.  There 
was  no  faintest  suggestion  of  secrecy.  I  have  a  suspicion 
that  his  shyness  was  that  of  one  whose  heart  was  without 
bolts  or  bars,  and  who  felt  himself  at  the  mercy  of  every 
"interviewer"  that  might  chance  to  get  hold  of  him. 

On  his  return  to  Concord,  Hawthorne  repaired  to 
his  residence,  "  Wayside,"  with  such  avoidance  of  parade 
that  the  quiet  little  town  was  for  some  days  ignorant 
of  his  arrival.  The  first  thing  he  set  about  was  having 
a  tower  added  to  his  house,  something  like  that  which 

ad  so  fascinated  his  imagination  in  the  Via  Portughese^^/ 
at  Rome.     This  was  set  aside  as  his  study,  or  rather 
as  his  writing-place,  for  the  library  was  in  another  room. 


200  LIFE  OF 

Hawthorne  was  oppressed  by  a  crowd  of  people  even 
when  represented  by  their  books.  Like  his  friend 
Longfellow  he  liked  to  stand  while  writing,  and  a  high 
desk  was  the  only  furniture  absolutely  necessary  in  the 
tower  where  his  winged  fancies  were  received.  These 
never  flitted  out  of  books.  It  is  rare  to  find  a  quotation 
in  Hawthorne's  works.  I  was  startled  on  finding  in  his 
journal  Emerson's  line,  "  They  builded  better  than  they 
knew,"  and  recalled  a  story,  told  me  by  Dr.  Loring, 
that  Hawthorne  complained  that  American  poetry  had 
no  quotable  lines.  Dr.  Holmes,  on  hearing  this,  said 
"Ah,  he  has  forgotten  Longfellow's  'Art!'"  ("Art  is 
long  and  time  is  fleeting.") 

In  fact,  Hawthorne  was  embarrassed  by  the  quantity 
of  his  own  mental  furniture,  which  had  been  greatly 
increased  by  his  long  silent  sojourn  in  Europe.  He 
made  haste  to  clear  the  English  sketches  out  of  his 
way,  and  set  himself  to  the  blocked -out  romances 
brought  from  Europe.  The  English  fragment,  posthu- 
mously published  as  "The  Ancestral  Footstep,"  had 
been  shoved  out  of  his  mind  by  the  overwhelming 
experiences  of  Rome.  He  had  brought  from  Florence 
the  suggestion  of  a  pretty  story.  He  had  visited  an  old 
Englishman,  Seymour  Kirkup,  long  resident  in  Florence, 
antiquarian  and  reputed  necromancer,  a  spiritualist  too, 
holding  converse,  through  a  medium,  with  dead  poets 
and  emperors.  He  found  the  quaint  old  man  in  an 
ancient  house  of  the  Templars  ;  his  face  was  shrivelled, 
his  silken  hair  white,  his  eyes  as  if  seeing  something 
that  struck  him  with  surprise.  Amid  curious  old  masks, 
frescoes,  parchments,  he  moved,  always  followed  by  a 


HA  WTHORNE.  201 

pale,  large-eyed  little  girl.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
beautiful  Florentine  woman  who  had  lived  with  the  old 
necromancer  as  his  spiritual  medium  until  her  death,  and 
whose  powers  of  spiritual  communication  the  girl  in- 
herited. Then  there  was  the  haunting  story  told  him 
by  Thoreau  of  his  own  house,  "  Wayside,"  whose  earlier 
occupant  believed  he  could  live  for  ever.  These  airy 
dreams,  less  manageable  than  Hilda's  doves,  fluttered  to 
his  Wayside  Tower,  each  eager  to  nestle  on  his  desk. 
It  was  hard  to  choose,  and  he  was  contriving  how  he 
might  fold  them  all  to  his  breast  at  once,  or  put  them 
in  the  columbarium  of  one  romance,  when  the  clangour 
of  war  frightened  them  away. 

Oa  his  return  to  Concord,  Hawthorne  was  so  eager 
to  make  up  in  literary  work  for  the  five  barren  consular 
years,  that  he  was  in  danger  of  becoming  a  prisoner  in 
his  tower.  Even  when  he  walked  the  streets  his  eye 
had  a  look  of  being  still  in  that  aerial  solitude.  And 
indeed  Emerson's  son,  in  his  delightful  account  of  his 
father's  home  life,  tells  a  story  which  shows  how  far 
away  from  Concord  Hawthorne  was,  and  at  the  same 
time  how  desirous  he  was  of  knowing  more  of  the 
Hildas  near  his  door.  I  quote  the  anecdote  as  freshly 
told  in  a  letter  from  my  friend  Edward  Emerson  : 

"  When  the  family  returned  to  Concord  after  their  European 
sojourn,  and  we  had  renewed  our  acquaintance  with  the  children, 
one  Sunday  evening,  at  about  half-past  eight,  the  door-bell  rang,  and 
to  our  astonishment  Mr.  Hawthorne  was  shown  in.  Father  was 
away  and  mother  not  well,  and  Edith  and  I  sat  alone  in  the  parlour. 
Mr.  Hawthorne  explained  that  his  call  was  upon  Miss  Ellen  (of 
whose  virtues  he  had  much  from  his  wife  and  Una).  Ellen  [Emer- 
son's eldest  daughter],  as  was  her  custom,  had  gone  to  bed  at  eight, 


202  LIFE  OF 

so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  for  Mr.  Hawthorne  to  make  the 
best  of  it  with  us.  He  was,  as  I  always  remember  him,  kindly,  but 
shy  as  a  wild  thing  from  the  woods  ;  and  to  conceal  his  embarrass- 
ment even  with  us,  children  of  thirteen  and  fifteen,  took  up  the 
stereoscope  we  had  on  the  table  and  began  looking  at  the  views. 
He  presently  asked  us  of  what  places  they  were  taken.  They 
represented  the  Concord  Common,  the  Court  House  and  Town 
House,  and  the  Milldam,  as  we  call  the  centre  of  the  town  where 
the  stores  and  post-office  are.  He  evidently  asked  in  good  faith, 
and,  though  he  walked  through  these  places  on  his  visits  to  the 
post-office  and  railway  station,  knew  as  little  about  them  as  the 
fox  that  might  burrow  in  his  hillside  did." 

Although  the  absorbed  author  never  visited  his  neigh- 
bours, those  who  had  reason  to  visit  him  were  kindly 
received.  Among  these  was  W.  D.  Howells,  then 
known  to  a  comparatively  small  circle,  and,  as  a  poet, 
Hawthorne  recognized  the  young  author's  ability,  and 
sent  him  to  Emerson  with  a  card  on  which  was  written, 
"I  find  him  worthy."1  His  loyalty  in  friendship  was  put 
to  the  test  by  his  publisher's  warning,  and  that  of 
others,  that  the  dedication  of  "Our  Old  Home"  to 
Ex-President  Pierce,  an  object  of  universal  odium,  would 
endanger  the  book's  success.  "  If  he  is  so  exceedingly 
unpopular  that  his  name  is  enough  to  sink  the  volume, 
there  is  so  much  the  more  need  that  an  old  friend  should 
stand  by  him,"  and  "  the  literary  public  must  accept  my 
book  precisely  as  I  think  fit  to  give  it,  or  let  it  alone." 

1  In  reply  to  a  question  concerning  this  visit,  Howells  tells  me, 
"  Hawthorne  took  me  up  on  the  hill  behind  Wayside,  and  we  had  a 
silence  of  half  an  hour  together.  He  said  he  never  saw  a  perfectly 
beautiful  woman  ;  asked  much  about  the  West ;  and  wished  he  could 
find  some  part  of  America  '  where  the  cursed  shadow  of  Europe  had 
not  fallen.' " 


HA  WTHORNE.  203 

At  Bowdoin  College  there  had  been  a  military  com- 
pany of  students,  of  which  Frank  Pierce  was  com- 
mander, and  Hawthorne  a  soldier.  There  is  almost 
a  military  ring  in  this  insistence  on  his  dedication  to  his 
old  captain.  And  indeed  there  was  a  martial  element 
in  Hawthorne,  which  asserted  itself  during  the  war 
along  with  his  disgust  at  its  causes.1  This  was  curiously 
illustrated  in  his  descriptive  article  on  the  subject, 
which  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  July,  1862. 
By  his  eulogistic  "  Life  of  Pierce  "  Hawthorne  had  done 
more  than,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  he  ever  knew  to  raise  the 
terrible  Frankenstein ;  and  as  the  phantasm  would  not 
let  him  work  he  went  forth  to  survey  its  desolations. 
He  visited  Washington,  met  President  Lincoln  and  his 
Ministers,  went  to  the  camps  and  battlefields  in  Virginia. 
In  the  old  engine-house  at  Harper's  Ferry,  which  John 
Brown  had  seized  as  a  fortress  in  his  attack  on  slavery, 
and  which  became  his  prison,  it  is  a  marvel  that  Haw- 
thorne did  not  see  the  executed  captain  shaking  his 
gory  locks  at  him.  For  it  was  he  whom  Hawthorne 
had  extolled  into  the  presidency  whose  oppression  in 
Kanzas  had  driven  the  good  captain  mad,  and  indeed 
made  the  war  inevitable.  Hawthorne's  article  is  spark- 
ling, graphic,  cynical.  When  with  the  soldiers  his 
bosom  swells  with  patriotic  pride,  and  almost  gloats 
over  the  prospective  defeat  of  the  South;  when  he  is 
with  the  politicians  he  is  an  old  proslavery  democrat 
again,  and  pities  the  poor  negroes  on  account  of  their 

1  A  remarkable  letter  from  Hawthorne  to  Francis  Bennoch  (after 
whom  a  room  at  Wayside  was  named),  relating  to  the  war,  was 
printed  in  my  "  Emerson  at  Home  and  Abroad." 


204  LIFE  OF 

sad  prospect  of  liberty.  One  or  two  passages  of  the 
article  as  originally  written  the  editor  refused  to  publish, 
— among  these  the  very  striking  portraiture  of  President 
Lincoln,  which  Houghton  and  Co.  have  done  well  to 
restore  in  their  edition  of  Hawthorne's  works.  When 
the  article  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  it  was 
accompanied  by  footnotes  sneering  at  the  writer,  or 
severely  rebuking  him.  "  Can  it  be  a  son  of  old 
Massachusetts  who  utters  this  abominable  sentiment  ? 
For  shame."  "The  author  seems  to  imagine  that  he 
has  compressed  a  great  deal  of  meaning  into  these 
little,  hard,  dry  pellets  of  aphoristic  wisdom.  We  dis- 
agree with  him,"  &c.  &c.  After  reading  the  article,  with 
these  terrible  editorial  comments,  the  present  writer 
(then  residing  in  Concord),  in  alarm  for  the  consequences 
to  Hawthorne,  rushed  with  the  magazine  to  Emerson's 
house.  Emerson  read  the  censorious  notes  and  quietly 
said,  "  Of  course  he  wrote  the  footnotes  himself." 

It  was  about  that  time  that  I  passed  a  day  or  two  with 
Hawthorne  at  the  house  of  James  T.  Fields,  in  Boston. 
He  had  aged  rapidly,  and  appeared  vague  and  lost  amid 
the  whirl  of  events,  about  which  he  was  inclined  to  be 
silent.  On  one  evening  other  guests  came,  and  I  was 
deputed  by  some  ladies  to  try  and  coax  him  from  his 
room.  I  found  him  reading  Defoe's  ghost  stories,  and, 
after  listening  afTably  to  my  request,  he  so  entertained 
me  with  talk  about  the  stories  that  I  forgot  my  mission. 
He  asked  me  to  tell  him  some  of  the  ghostly  lore  of 
negroes  in  my  own  State  (Virginia),  and  showed  much 
interest  in  the  few  that  I  remembered.  He  hardly 
appeared  the  same  man  as  that  taciturn  personage  I  had 


HA  WTHORNE.  205 

sometimes  met  in  company  —  though  not,  of  course, 
among  friends  so  near  as  those  under  whose  roof  he  now 
was.  At  breakfast  he  appeared  with  an  amusing  look  of 
boyish  meekness,  as  if  expecting  reproach  from  Mrs. 
Fields  for  not  having  shown  himself  in  the  drawing-room 
the  evening  before.  He  met,  of  course,  only  sunshine, 
and  was  warmed  by  it  into  a  charming  flow  of  talk — most 
of  it  being  about  England.  He  had  been  so  pained  by 
the  reception  of  his  book,  "  Our  Old  Home,"  in  England, 
that  he  had  begged  Fields  to  send  him  no  more  notices 
of  it  from  the  English  press.  The  sketches,  which  had 
appeared  as  papers  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  had  unfor- 
tunately been  hurried  into  a  volume,  amid  many  worries, 
without  such  revision  as  we  now  got  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  where  all  his  memories  of  England  were 
happy. 

I  was  at  that  time  devoting  myself  to  the  cause  of 
emancipation,  and  was  daily  hearing  from  some  of  our 
anti-slavery  rank  and  file  sharp  words  concerning  Haw- 
thorne, but  never  for  a  moment  did  I  have  any  such 
feeling  towards  him.  Being  a  Virginian  who  had  known 
the  loneliness  of  social  exile  on  account  of  my  anti- 
slavery  views,  I  felt  some  nearness  to  this  Northern  man, 
whose  opposite  views  had  suddenly  isolated  him.  This 
strange  being  from  fairyland  was  not  to  be  judged  by 
common  standards.  On  the  subject  that  absorbed  all 
minds  he  could  not  converse  with  his  intimate  friends. 
His  old  democratic  friends  either  did  not  like  his  patriotic 
advocacy  of  the  war,  or  had  been  converted  by  events 
from  his  lingering  sympathy  with  Southern  politics.  He 
had  not  the  flexibility  of  principle  displayed  by  so  many 


206  LIFE  OF 

in   those  days.     He  thus  had   no   party, — then   nearly 
equivalent  to  having  no  country. 

Probably  there  was  not  an  individual  in  the  United 
States  who  would  have  subscribed  his  article,  "  Chiefly 
on  War  Matters."  Although  he  wished  for  the  military 
success  of  the  North,  and  began  to  think  slavery  at  least 
a  national  nuisance,  he  did  not  at  once  share  the  general 
enthusiasm  for  the  Union. 

"  Though  I  approve  of  the  war  as  much  as  any  man,"  he  wrote 
to  Horatio  Bridge,  "  I  don't  quite  understand  what  we  are  fighting 
for,  or  what  definite  result  can  be  expected.  If  we  pummel  the 
South  ever  so  hard,  they  will  love  us  none  the  better  for  it ;  and  even 
if  we  subjugate  them,  our  next  step  should  be  to  cut  them  adrift.  If 
we  are  fighting  for  the  annihilation  of  slavery,  to  be  sure  it  may  be 
a  wise  object,  and  offer  a  tangible  result,  and  the  only  one  which  is 
consistent  with  a  future  union  between  North  and  South.  A  con- 
tinuance of  the  war  would  soon  make  this  plain  to  us,  and  we  should 
see  the  expediency  of  preparing  our  black  brethren  for  future  citizen- 
ship by  allowing  them  to  fight  for  their  own  liberties,  and  educating 
them  through  heroic  influences.  Whatever  happens  next,  I  must 
say  that  I  rejoice  that  the  old  Union  is  smashed.  We  never  were 
one  people,  and  never  really  had  a  country  since  the  constitution 
was  formed. " 

Hawthorne  lent  an  eager  ear  to  the  Hon.  Martin  F. 
Conway,  a  member  of  Congress,  who  came  to  Concord 
to  make  converts  to  a  policy  he  had  for  peaceful  dissolu- 
tion of  the  Union.  He  was  a  native  of  Maryland, 
though  he  represented  Kanzas,  and  was  an  eloquent 
anti-slavery  champion.  He  urged  on  the  anti-slavery 
men,  what  then  seemed  to  be  true,  that  emancipation 
was  no  part  of  the  purpose  of  the  administration  in  the 
war,  which  was  likely  to  end  in  some  compromise  with 


HA  WTHORNE.  207 

that  institution,  leaving  the  slaves  more  hopelessly  bound 
than  before.  Whereas  with  separation  all  constitutional 
compromises  with  slavery  would  lapse ;  the  area  of  negro 
liberty,  instead  of  being  in  distant  Canada,  to  which 
the  fugitive  must  escape,  would  be  carried  down  to  the 
Potomac  and  the  Ohio  ;  and,  as  the  North  would  no 
longer  be  under  the  constitutional  obligation  to  return 
negro  fugitives,  they  would  all  gradually  escape.  This 
reasoning  made  an  impression  on  us  all,  and  Hawthorne, 
for  one  moment  of  his  life,  stood  with  a  good  many  anti. 
slavery  men.  But  further  events  speedily  identified  the 
war  with  emancipation,  and  all  side  schemes  and  theories 
were  merged  in  the  struggle. 

The  first  two  years  of  the  war,  its  miserable  blunders, 
its  fearful  massacres,  were  depressing  enough  even  for 
those  who  had  faith  in  a  heavenly  advent  of  liberty  for 
the  slave,  and  liberation  of  the  nation  from  Slavery ;  but 
for  Hawthorne,  with  no  enthusiasm  of  this  kind,  it  was  a 
prolonged  nightmare.  His  only  happiness,  he  said,  was 
that  his  son  was  too  young  to  enlist ;  his  regret,  that  he 
himself  was  too  old.  Gradually,  however,  like  other 
literary  men,  he  had  to  establish  some  modus  vivendi  with 
the  situation.  He  locked  himself  in  his  tower,  took  up 
the  so  long  paralyzed  pen,  and  addressed  himself  to  write 
a  romance.  It  came  hard.  "  There  is  something  pre- 
ternatural in  my  reluctance  to  begin,"  he  wrote  his  urgent 
publisher,  Mr.  Fields.  "  I  linger  at  the  threshold,  and 
have  a  perception  of  very  disagreeable  phantoms  to  be 
encountered  if  I  enter.  .  .  .  There  are  two  or  three  chap- 
ters ready  to  be  written,  but  I  am  not  robust  enough  to 
begin,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  should  never  carry  it  through.  .  . . 


208  LIFE  OF 

Seriously,  my  mind  has,  for  the  present,  lost  its  temper, 
and  its  fine  edge,  and  I  have  an  instinct  that  I  had  better 
keep  quiet." 

This  depressed  state  of  mind  is  not  to  be  explained 
merely  by  worries  about  the  war,  or  the  prolonged  sus- 
pense of  work.  In  large  part  it  was,  I  believe,  due  to  a 
repugnance  conceived  against  the  subjects  on  which  he 
had  been  working,  in  England  and  Florence — these  being 
the  only  ones  in  a  sufficient  state  of  preparation  to  be 
available  for  the  clamorous  Atlantic.  He  had  suffered 
anguish  in  Rome,  and  here  was  a  nation  of  parents  in 
such  anguish  of  apprehension  as  he  had  felt  for  his 
daughter.  It  seemed  dreadful  to  add  any  gloom,  how- 
ever imaginative,  to  the  sad  time,  but  whenever  he  took 
his  pen,  uprose  his  dark  phantoms — Septimius  Felton, 
Dolliver,  Grimshawe,  and  the  Bloody  Footstep.  "  Ah," 
he  said,  "  could  I  only  write  a  sunshiny  book  !  " 

Then  he  set  himself  to  "  The  Dolliver  Romance,"  and 
no  doubt,  had  he  lived  to  complete  it,  he  would  have 
brought  some  Italian  sunshine  into  it.  But,  alas,  hardly 
had  he  begun  when  the  sunshine  began  to  fade  out  of 
his  life.  Una  fell  ill !  This  daughter,  idealized  as  we 
have  seen  in  Hilda — the  pure  vision  of  his  own  soul — 
had  returned  from  the  shadow  of  death,  in  Rome,  to 
become  interwoven  with  the  very  fibres  of  Hawthorne's 
life.  Her  relapse  became  his  also.  And  it  was  an  illness 
of  ominous  character,  rendering  it  but  too  certain  that 
her  strength  was  undermined,  and  threatening  both  mind 
and  body. 

This  was  really  Hawthorne's  death-blow.  He  would 
not  admit  that  anything  was  the  matter  with  him,  but  he 


HA  WTHORNE.  209 

aged  daily.     Una  was  sent  to  the  seaside,  and  physically 
seemed  somewhat   better;   but   Hawthorne's   prophetic 
vision  foresaw   a   peril   he  would  not  whisper  even  to 
his  wife.     In  Una's  absence  he  could  not  eat  or  sleep, 
and  sank  visibly.     He  was  persuaded  to  make  a  visit 
to   the  seaside   himself,  taking   his  son   Julian,   in  the 
summer  of    1863.      This   was   near    Salem,   where   he 
visited  his  friend  Dr.  Loring.      He  had  given  no  sign 
that  their  little  girl,  of  five  years,  had  attracted  him,  but 
on  leaving  he  took  her  hand  and  said,  "  I  hope,  Posy, 
when  we  meet  again  we  shall  be   better   acquainted." 
Something  in  his  tone  caused  the  simple  words  to  be 
remembered,  as  if  he  had  seen  in  the  precocious  child 
some  token  that  their  meeting  might  be  in  the  happier 
world  for  which  he  hoped.     She  died  the  next  summer. 
The  seaside  rambles  with  Julian  did  him  some  good,  but 
not  so  much  as  he  artfully  made  out  to  his  wife,  to  whom 
he  wrote  mirthful  letters  (printed  by  his  son)  that  now 
are  most  touching.     Against  her  entreaties  he  returned 
home,  with  the  evident  determination  to  utilize  every 
heart-beat  of  his  consciously  sinking  life  in  an  effort  to 
leave  his  literary  work  in  better  shape.     He  must  have 
toiled  terribly  on  "  Septimius  Felton,"  which,  as  found 
among  his  manuscripts,  was  in  such  rapid  and  broken 
handwriting  that  his  daughter  Una  could  only  decipher 
and  arrange  it  by  Robert  Browning's  aid.     He  would 
appear,    however,    to   have  left  this   for  "  The  Dolliver 
Romance,"  of  which  one  part  was  found  finished,  and 
two  other  scenes  fairly  well  sketched.     Both  of  these 
works  are  on  the  same  theme — the  elixir  of  life.     It  is 
sufficiently  tragical  to  think  of  the  author  in  his  tower, 

14 


210  LIFE  OF 

writing  of  an  elixir  by  which  the  aged  grew  young,  while 
he  himself  is  consciously  sinking  into  his  grave. 

Julian  Hawthorne,  in  publishing  another  version  of 
"SeptimiusFelton"  (Lippincotf  s  Magazine,  January- April, 
1890),  points  out  the  probable  relation  of  its  war  features 
to  the  fact  that  the  first  Concord  regiment  marched  to 
the  late  civil  war  on  April  19,  anniversary  of  the  Concord 
fight  in  1775.  In  seeing  the  British  advance,  Septimius 
says,  "  I  know  not  what  I  have  to  do  with  the  quarrel." 
Such  was  Hawthorne's  own  feeling  eighty-seven  years 
later ;  but  he  presently  shared  the  national  ardour,  and 
thrust  aside  "Septimius"  for  "Pansie,"  or  " The  Dolliver 
Romance."  He  also  longed  to  write  "  a  sunshiny  book." 
From  the  cold-hearted  Septimius  he  turned  to  the  genial 
antiquarian  of  Florence,  Seymour  Kirkup,  and  pretty 
Imogen  at  his  side.  These  now  appear  as  Grandsir 
Dolliver  and  Pansie. 

It  has  been  stated,  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  work, 
that  Emerson  feared  Hawthorne's  sombre  spirit;  but  I 
suspect  that  now  the  fear  was  on  Hawthorne's  side.  He 
was  writing  the  romance  of  immortality,  while  sinking  into 
the  grave,  and  perhaps  dreaded  Emerson's  attitude  to- 
wards all  supernaturalism.  I  have  heard,  indeed,  that 
when  Emerson  visited  his  friend  in  his  illness,  and 
spoke  of  man's  resources  of  strength  as  lying  in  himself, 
altogether  ignoring  the  future,  Hawthorne  was  rather 
depressed  than  cheered  by  the  interview. 

Hawthorne  at  last  grows  very  weary.  "  Those  verses 
entitled  *  Weariness '  in  the  last  magazine  seem  to  me 
profoundly  touching.  I,  too,  am  weary,  and  begin  to 
look  ahead  for  the  Wayside  Inn."  So  he  writes  to 


HA  WTHORNE.  211 

Fields  in  December,  1863.  At  the  end  of  the  following 
February  he  writes  to  this  dear  friend,  his  publisher,  that 
the  pen  has  finally  fallen  from  his  hand,  and  that  he  shall 
never  finish  the  romance.  "I  cannot  finish  it  unless 
a  great  change  comes  over  me  ;  and  if  I  make  too  great 
an  effort  to  do  so,  it  will  be  my  death  ;  not  that  I  should 
care  much  for  that,  if  I  could  fight  the  battle  through 
and  win  it,  thus  ending  a  life  of  much  smoulder  and 
scanty  fire  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  But  I  should  smother 
myself  in  mud  of  my  own  making.  ...  I  am  not  low- 
spirited,  nor  fanciful,  nor  freakish,  but  look  what  seem 
to  me  realities  in  the  face,  and  am  ready  to  take  what- 
ever may  come.  If  I  could  but  go  to  England  now, 
I  think  that  the  sea-voyage  and  the  '  old  home '  might 
set  me  all  right." 

So  sorrowfully,  for  Hawthorne's  friends,  had  the  New 
Year  (1864)  opened.  One  of  the  nearest  of  them,  Dr. 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  then  had  an  interview  with 
Hawthorne,  at  the  end  of  which  he  advised  his  friend 
to  take  some  quiet  tour.  Dr.  Holmes  had  little  hope  of 
Hawthorne's  recovery,  and  Hawthorne  himself  none  at 
all.  He  had  no  fear  of  death.  I  was  told  that  Haw- 
thorne expressed  to  Dr.  Holmes  some  anxiety  lest  his 
physical  condition,  or,  if  he  should  die,  the  cause  of  his 
death,  might  be  described  in  the  newspapers. 

In  March  Hawthorne  went  southward,  under  care  of 
his  friend  W.  D.  Ticknor,  senior  partner  of  the  firm  that 
published  his  works,  and  Mrs.  Hawthorne  received  daily 
letters  from  Ticknor,  reporting  improvement  in  her 
husband's  condition.  But  at  Philadelphia  Ticknor 
suddenly  died.  The  shock — the  burden  of  having 


212  LIFE  OF 

the  body  prepared  for  transportation  —  the  whole 
ghastly  situation — brought  Hawthorne  home  a  dying 
man.  But  his  wife  would  not  surrender.  His  old 
friend,  Ex-President  Pierce,  came  on  in  May  to  take 
him  on  an  excursion.  Politically  the  two  had  parted. 
Dr.  Loring  and  Hawthorne,  in  the  previous  summer, 
drove  over  to  see  Pierce  at  Rockport.  The  three  had 
been  "democrats"  together,  but  now,  when  the  visitors 
spoke  favourably  of  Lincoln,  the  ex-president  said,  "  Not 
one  act  of  his  administration  can  be  commended." 
Pierce  had  learned  nothing  and  forgotten  nothing.  Cer- 
tainly he  never  forgot  his  friendship  for  Hawthorne. 
When,  about  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Pierce  died,  Haw- 
thorne, ill  as  he  was,  could  not  be  restrained  from 
accompanying  his  friend  to  her  grave.  The  air  was 
chill,  and  Pierce,  in  that  moment  of  deep  grief,  was 
observed  to  turn  and  pull  up  Hawthorne's  overcoat 
about  his  throat. 

About  the  middle  of  May  Hawthorne  parted  with  his 
family,  sweetly,  but  without  any  scene,  and  the  two 
white-haired  old  men  started  on  their  way  towards  the 
region  where  their  college  days  were  passed  together. 
On  May  i8th  they  reached  Plymouth,  New  Hampshire. 
They  stopped  at  the  Pemigewasset  Hotel.  Once  or 
twice  in  the  night  Pierce  crept  near  Hawthorne's  bed, 
in  an  adjacent  room,  and  found  him  asleep,  and  breath- 
ing quietly.  But  when  he  went  again,  some  time  after 
midnight,  Hawthorne,  though  his  position  was  unchanged, 
had  ceased  to  breathe. 

On  May  24,  1864,  Hawthorne  was  borne  to  his  rest 
to  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  not  far  from  his  house,  in 


HA  WTHORNE.  213 

Concord.  There,  not  far  from  his  friend  Thoreau — of 
whom  he  meant  to  prefix  a  sketch  in  his  "  Dolliver 
Romance," — he  was  attended  by  Emerson,  who  now 
lies  near  him,  and  Longfellow,  who  wrote  touching  lines 
on  his  dead  friend. 

"  There  in  seclusion  and  remote  from  men, 

The  wizard  hand  lies  cold, 
Which  at  its  topmost  speed  let  fall  the  pen, 
And  left  the  tale  half  told. 

Ah,  who  shall  lift  that  wand  of  magic  power, 

And  the  lost  clue  regain  ! 
The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower 

Unfinished  must  remain  !  " 

On  the  coffin  lay  the  manuscript  of  "the  tale  half 
told  " — tale  of  the  deathless  man.  The  address  in  the 
church  (Unitarian)  was  by  the  Rev.  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  who  in  the  same  building  had  married  Haw- 
thorne and  his  wife  twenty-two  years  before.  A  vast 
crowd  assembled,  and  there  was  almost  a  crush,  so  great 
was  the  desire  to  look  on  the  face  of  the  great  man  whom 
even  some  of  his  neighbours  had  never  seen. 

With  a  letter  written  to  dear  friends  by  the  widow — 
her  song  in  the  night — this  brief  history  of  a  great 
writer  may  fitly  end. 

"May,  1864,  Monday  Night. 

"BELOVED, — When  I  see  that  I  deserved  nothing,  and  that  my 
Father  gave  me  the  richest  destiny  for  so  many  years  of  time,  to- 
which  eternity  is  to  be  added,  I  am  struck  dumb  with  an  ecstasy 
of  gratitude,  and  let  go  my  mortal  hold  with  an  awful  submission, 
and  without  a  murmur.  I  stand  hushed  into  an  ineffable  peace 
which  I  cannot  measure  nor  understand.  It  therefore  must  be  that 


214  LIFE  OF 

peace  which  '  passeth  all  understanding.'  I  feel  that  his  joy  is 
such  as  '  the  heart  of  man  cannot  conceive,'  and  shall  I  not  then 
rejoice,  who  loved  him  so  far  beyond  myself?  If  I  did  not  at  once 
share  his  beatitude,  should  I  be  one  with  him  now  in  essential 
essence  ?  Ah,  thanks  be  to  God  who  gives  me  this  proof— beyond 
all  possible  doubt — that  we  are  not,  and  never  can  be,  divided  ! 
If  my  faith  bear  this  test,  is  it  not  '  beyond  the  utmost  scope  and 
vision  ofj  calamity '  ?  Need  I  ever  fear  again  any  possible  dis- 
pensation, if  I  can  stand  serene  when  that  presence  is  reft  irom  me 
which  I  believed  I  must  instantly  die  to  lose  ?  Where,  O  God,  is 
that  supporting,  inspiring,  protecting,  entrancing  presence  which 
surrounded  me  with  safety  and  supreme  content  ? 

"  '  It  is  with  you,  my  child,'  saith  the  Lord,  '  and  seenieth  only  to 
be  gone.' 

"  Yes,  my  Father,  I  know  I  have  not  lost  it,  because  I  still  live. 
*  I  will  be  glad.'  '  Thy  will  be  done.'  From  a  child  I  have  truly 
believed  that  God  was  all-good  and  all-wise,  and  felt  assured  that 
no  event  could  shake  my  belief.  To-day  I  know  it. 

"  This  is  the  whole.  No  more  can  be  asked  of  God.  There  can 
be  no  death  nor  loss  for  me  for  evermore.  I  stand  so  far  within 
the  veil  that  the  light  from  God's  countenance  can  never  be  hidden 
from  me  for  one  moment  of  the  eternal  day,  now  nor  then.  God 
gave  me  the  rose  of  time — the  blossom  of  the  ages  to  call  my  own 
for  twenty-five  years  of  human  life.  God  has  satisfied  wholly  my 
insatiable  heart  with  a  perfect  love  that  transcends  my  dreams.  He 
has  decreed  this  earthly  life  a  mere  court  of  *  the  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.' 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  heavenly  Father !  '  I  will  be  glad '  that  my 
darling  has  suddenly  escaped  from  the  rude  jars  and  hurts  of  this 
outer  court,  and  when  I  was  not  aware  that  an  angel  gently  drew 
him  within  the  palace-door  that  turned  on  noiseless  golden  hinges, 
drew  him  in,  because  he  was  weary. 

"  God  gave  to  His  beloved  sleep.  And  then  an  awakening 
which  will  require  no  more  restoring  slumber. 

"  As  the  dewdrop  holds  the  day,  so  my  heart  holds  the  presence 
of  the  glorified  freed  spirit.  He  was  so  beautiful  here,  that  he  will 
not  need  much  change  to  become  '  a  shining  one  ! '  How  easily 
I  shall  know  him  when  my  children  have  done  with  me,  and 


HA  WTHORNE.  215 

perhaps  the  angel  will  draw  me  gently  also  within  the  palace-door, 
if  I  do  not  faint,  but  truly  live.  '  Thy  will  be  done.' 

"At  that  festival  of  life  that  we  all  celebrated  last  Monday,  did 
not  those  myriad  little  white  lily-bells  ring  in  for  him  the  eternal 
year  of  peace,  as  they  clustered  and  hung  around  the  majestic 
temple  in  which  he  once  lived  with  God  ?  They  rang  out,  too,  that 
lordly  incense  that  can  come  only  from  a  lily,  large  or  small.  What 
lovely  ivory  sculpture  round  the  edge  !  I  saw  it  all,  even  at  that 
breathless  moment,  when  I  knew  that  all  that  was  visible  was  about 
to  be  shut  out  from  me  for  my  future  mortal  life.  I  saw  all  the 
beauty,  and  the  tropical  gorgeousness  of  odour  that  enriched  the  air 
from  your  peerless  wreath  steeped  me  in  Paradise.  We  were  the 
new  Adam  and  new  Eve  again,  and  walked  in  the  garden  in  the 
cool  of  the  day,  and  there  was  not  yet  death,  only  the  voice  of  the 
Lord.  But  indeed  it  seems  to  me  that  now  again  there  is  no  death. 
His  life  has  swallowed  it  up. 

' '  Do  not  fear  for  me.  '  Dark  hours  ? '  I  think  there  is  nothing 
dark  for  me  henceforth.  I  have  to  do  only  with  the  present,  and 
the  present  is  light  and  rest.  Has  not  the  everlasting — 

" '  Morning  spread 

Over  me  her  rich  surprise  ! ' 

I  have  no  more  to  ask,  but  that  I  may  be  able  to  comfort  all  who 
mourn,  as  I  am  comforted.  If  I  could  bear  all  sorrow  I  would  be 
glad,  because  God  has  turned  for  me  the  silver  lining  ;  and  for  me 
the  darkest  cloud  has  broken  into  ten  thousand  singing-birds — as 
I  saw  in  my  dream  that  I  told  you.  So  in  another  dream,  long 
ago,  God  showed  me  a  gold  thread  passing  through  each  mesh  of 
a  black  pall  that  seemed  to  shut  out  the  sun.  I  comprehend  all 
now  ;  before  I  did  not  doubt.  Now  God  says  in  soft  thunders, 
'  Even  so.' — Your  faithful  friend, 

"  SOPHIA  HAWTHORNE." 


INDEX. 


A. 

Alcott,    Mr.    Bronson,    134,    137, 

141,  142 
American    Magazine    of    Useful 

and  Entertaining  Knowledge, 

The,  Hawthorne  edits,  45-55 
American    Monthly     Magazine, 

The,  44 
"  American  Note  Books,"  10,  12  ; 

quoted,   29-30,   61,   71,   72,  74, 

77,  79,  93-  135-  153 

"Analytical  Index"  of  Haw- 
thorne's works,  ii 

"Ancestral  Footstep,  The,"  200 

Angelico,  Fra,  Hawthorne's 
opinion  of  his  "  Last  Judg- 
ment,'' 176 

Angelo,  Michel,  Hawthorne's 
opinion  of  his  "Fates,"  174; 
and  "Last  Judgment,"  176,  184 

Athenczuni)  The,  n,  55,  60,  92, 
95,  in,  163,  195 

Atlantic  Monthly,  The,  203,  204 

Austin,  William,  68-69 


B. 

Bacon,  Miss  Delia,  156-158 

Bancroft,  George,  77,  79,  82 

Bath,  Eng. ,  194 

Benjamin,  Mr.  W.  R.,  IIN  40 
note,  155,  186 

Bennoch,  Mr.  Francis,  154  note, 
158,  192,  203  note 

"  Blithedale  Romance,  The,"  85, 
89-90,  99,  140-141 

Boston  Custom  House,  Haw- 
thorne at,  77-82,  83 

Boston  Token  and  Atlantic  Sou- 
venir, The,  32,  34,  39,  42-44, 

55 

Bowdoin  College,  24-27,  203 

Bradford,  George,  87,  96 

Bray,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  194 

Bremer,  Miss,  161 

Bridge,  Horatio,  U.S.N.,  24,  33, 
77,  103,  144,  145,  206 

Bright,  Mr.  H.,  152,  192,  196 ; 
his  "Song  of  Consul  Haw- 
thorne," 193 


218 


INDEX. 


Brook  Farm,  33,  84-90,  140 
Browning,    Mr.    and  Mrs.,    155, 

180,  185,  186,  188,  189,  209 
Brownson,  O.  A.,  86 
Bryant,  the  poet,  161 
Burchmore,  Zach. ,    109-110,  115 

and  note 
Burton,  Rev.  Warren,  87 

C. 

Celestial  Railroad,  The,"  73-75, 

100,  170 

Channing,  Ellery,  95,  96 
Chorley,  Henry,  56,  92,  163,  195 
Church  Review,  The,  130 
Cilley,  Hon.  Jonathan,  24,  59-64, 

77,  113,  114 
Clarke,  Rev.  J.  F.,  213 
Concord,  33,  34,  90-104, 136,  137, 

141,  199 

Conolly,  Mr.,  92-93 
Conway,  Hon.  Martin  F.,  206 
Critic,  The,  quoted,  35 
Curtis,  George  W.,  87,  127,  141, 

181 

D. 

Dana,  Charles  A.,  86 
"  David  Swan,"  quoted,  103 
Democratic  Review,   The,  33,  34, 

39,  61,  62,  73,  91,  113,  117 
"  Devil  in  Manuscript,  The,"  42 
Dolce,  Carlo,  Hawthorne's  opinion 

of  his  "Eternal  Father,"  175, 

176 
"Dolliver    Romance,   The,"    68, 

208-210,  213 

Dreer,  Mr.  F.  J.,  n,  44,  148 
"Dr.  Heidegger's  Experiment," 

68 


Dufferin,  Lord,  194,  195 
Duyckinck,  Mr.,  126,  133 

E. 

Emerson,  Edward,  quoted,  201- 
202 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  35,  36,  64,  84, 
8S.  94-  97-ico.  103,  107,  136, 
156,  202,  204,  210,  213  ;  quoted, 
10,  96 

"  Endicott  and  the  Red  Cross, '' 
123 

England,  Hawthorne  and,  153- 
156,  192-197,  205 

"  Ethan  Brand,  a  Chapter  from 
an  Abortive  Romance,"  122 

"  Evangeline,"  Longfellow's,  the 
theme  borrowed  from  Haw- 
thorne, 92-93 

Evelyn,  Mr.  W.,  154  note 

F. 

"  Fanshawe,"  31,  34-35,  72 

Farley,  Frank,  87 

"  Feathertop,"  71 

Fields,  Mr.  J.  T.,  34,  124,  125, 
126,  133,  135,  144,  204,  205, 
207,  211  ;  his  "  Yesterdays  with 
Authors,"  quoted,  20,  93,  124- 

125 

Florence,  167,  184-189 
Fogg,  Dr.  John  S.  H.,  n,  in 
Forgues,  Mons.,  his  translations 

of  Hawthorne's  works,  40  note 
"French  and  Italian  Note  Books," 

quoted,  187 
French  translations  and  opinions 

of  Hawthorne's  works,  40  note 
Fuller,  Margaret,  39,  86,  95,  96, 

140 


INDEX. 


219 


G. 

Garnett,  Mr.  R.,  u,  73 
"  Gentle  Boy,  The,"  65,  72 
Goodrich,  the   publisher,  32,  33, 

42-45 

Good  Words,  105 
''Grandfather's    Chair,"   33,   42, 

83 

Gratz,  Mr.  S.,  n 
Graves,  Mr.,  59-64 
"Great  Stone  Face,  The,"  98,  121 
Guide's     "  Angel    and    Satan," 

Hawthorne's  criticism  of,  182- 

183 


H. 

Hathorne,  Daniel,  Hawthorne's 
grandfather,  16 

Hathorne,  Elizabeth  Clarke, 
Hawthorne's  mother,  16-26, 
108,  124 

Hathorne,  Judge  John,  Haw- 
thorne's great  -  great  -  grand  - 
father,  14-16 

Hathorne,  Joseph,  Hawthorne's 
great-grandfather,  16 

Hathorne,  Nathaniel,  Haw- 
thorne's father,  16 

Hathorne,  Judge  William,  founder 
of  the  Hawthorne  family  in 
America,  14-15 

Hawthorne,  Elizabeth,  Natha- 
niel's sister,  quoted,  18-19,  22, 
58 

Hawthorne,  Julian,  Nathaniel's 
son  and  biographer,  10,  n,  107, 
132,  209 ;  quoted,  17,  18-19, 
21-22,  37,  39,  59,  60,  65,  88, 
137,  166,  187,  188,  210 


Hawthorne,    Louisa,    Nathaniel's 
sister,  21-22,  88,  134,  142,  143 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  light 
thrown  upon  his  life  by  his 
works  and  letters,  9-10  ;  his 
biographers,  10-12  ;  ancestors, 
13-16  ;  birth,  16  ;  early  days  at 
Salem,  17-20 ;  and  Raymond 
(Maine),  20-21  ;  school  and 
early  journalism  at  Salem,  21- 
22  ;  early  literary  tastes,  23  ; 
doubts  as  to  the  choice  of  a  pro- 
fession,, 24  ;  goes  to  Bowdoin 
College,  24 ;  life  and  friends 
there,  25-27  ;  graduates  and 
returns  to  Salem,  28  ;  life  there, 
28-30  ;  first  literary  efforts  and 
attempts  at  publication,  31-33  ; 
the  order  of  publication  of  his 
earlier  works,  33-34  ;  "  Fan- 
shawe,"  34-35 ;  his  dislike  of 
churches  and  parsons,  36-38  ; 
why  he  did  not  enter  a  profes- 
sion, 38-39  ;  causes  and  effects 
of  his  spelling  his  name  with  a 
w>  39-41  I  his  early  stories, 
"Universal  History,"  and  maga- 
zine contributions,  42-55  ;  The 
Athenceum  praises  his  stories, 
55-56  ;  dissatisfaction  with  his 
Salem  life,  56-57  ;  his  suscepti- 
bility to  beauty,  58-59  ;  he 
challenges  a  friend,  59  ;  the  far- 
reaching  effects  of  this  challenge, 
59-64  ;  he  becomes  engaged  to 
Sophia  Amelia  Peabody,  64-66  ; 
"  A  Virtuoso's  Collection,"  67- 
68  ;"  Wakefield,"  70-71  ;  his 
originality,  71  ;  "  Feathertop," 
71  ;  his  mysticism,  72  ;  influence 


220 


INDEX. 


of  Bunyan,  73  ;  "The  Celestial 
Railroad,"  73-75  ;  love  of  clas- 
sical legends  and  fairy  tales,  75  ; 
first  series  of  "  Twice-told 
Tales,"  76  ;  finds  literature  does 
not  pay,  76-77 ;  serves  two 
years  in  Boston  Custom  House 
as  a  weigher  and  gauger,  77- 

82  ;     "  Grandfather's     Chair," 

83  ;  comes  under  the  influence 
of  transcendentalism  and  joins 
the    Brook    Farm  community, 
84-89  ;  leaves  Brook  Farm,  89- 
90  ;   marries  Sophia   Peabody, 
90-91 ;  settles  at  the  Old  Manse, 
Concord,  91  ;  his  slender  means, 
92 ;    he  supplies    the    idea    of 
"Evangeline"   to   Longfellow, 
92-93  ;  his  life  at  the  Old  Manse, 
94-96  ;  his  friends  at  Concord, 
96-97  ;     his     friendship     with 
Emerson,  97-100  ;  birth  of  his 
daughter  Una,    100-103  ;    be- 
comes Surveyor  of  Customs  at 
Salem,  103-104  ;  his  son  Julian 
born,   107 ;   his  three  years  in, 
and  his  removal  from,  the  Salem 
Custom   House,    105-117;    his 
financial    difficulties     relieved, 
117-118  ;    a    testimonial,     118- 
120;      "The    Snow    Image," 
"  The  Great  Stone  Face,"  and 
other    tales,    121-122;     "The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  122-131  ;  moves 
to     Lenox,     Mass.,     132-133  ;    : 
"  The    House    of    the    Seven   | 
Gables,"  133-135  ;  "  A  Wonder    ' 
Book  for  Boys  and  Girls,"  and 
"Tanglewood Tales,"  135-138  ; 
birth  of  his  third  child,  Rose, 


138-140  ;  moves  to  West  New- 
ton and  writes  "The  Blithedale 
Romance,"  140-141 ;  purchases 
and  moves  to  "  Wayside,"  Con- 
cord, 141-142 ;  death  of  his 
sister  Louisa,  142-143  ;  writes, 
for  a  political  campaign,  a 
"  Life  of  Franklin  Pierce,"  143- 
148  ;  is  appointed  consul  at 
Liverpool,  148-149  ;  his  life  in, 
and  impressions  of,  England, 
149-156  ;  his  introduction  to 
Miss  Bacon's  "Philosophy  of 
the  Plays  of  Shakespeare,"  156- 
158  ;  resigns  the  consulate,  158  ; 
proceeds  to  Rome,  159-162 ; 
"  Transformation,"  162-169  > 
the  influence  of  artistic  Rome 
upon  his  spiritual  development, 
169-177  ;  his  "  Transforma- 
tion" legends,  177-178;  the 
lessons  taught  by  Rome,  179- 
180  ;  his  impressions  of  Rome, 
180-184 ;  visits  Florence,  184- 
186 ;  experiences  of,  and  views 
on,  spiritualism,  186-189  ;  his 
feeling  for  Rome,  189  ;  Rome's 
ignorance  of  him,  189-191  ;  re- 
turns to  England,  192-194  ; 
publishes  "  Transformation," 
194 ;  his  cordial  reception  in 
England,  194-195  ;  his  final 
feeling  for  England,  195-197  ; 
his  personal  appearance  on  his 
return  to  America,  198-199 ; 
settles  at  "  Wayside,"  Concord, 
again,  199  ;  his  literary  plans 
and  his  absorption  in  them, 
200-202  ;  his  loyalty  in  friend- 
ship, 202  ;  visits  the  scenes  of 


INDEX, 


221 


the  war  and  writes  a  descriptive 
article,  203-204 ;  his  political 
position  and  views,  205-207 ; 
commences  "The  Dolliver 
Romance,"  207-208  ;  illness  of 
Una  and  himself,  208-209  ;  en- 
deavours to  resume  work  but  is 
obliged  to  give  it  up,  209-211 ; 
his  death  and  burial,  211-213 

Hawthorne,  Rose,  Nathaniel's 
daughter,  10,  132,  138-140,  209 

Hawthorne,  Sophia  A.,  Natha- 
niel's wife.  10,  12,  30,  36,  64-66, 
76,  87-88,  90,  91,  95,  97,  102, 
103,  107,  108,  113,  114, 116,  117, 
121,  123,  125,  132,  138,  148,  161, 
166,  189,  209,  211-215 

Hawthorne,  Una,  Nathaniel's 
daughter,  18,  58,  75,  100-102, 
108,  132,  161,  166-169,  174,  189, 
194,  197,  208,  209 

Headley,  Mr.,  133 

Hennell,  Miss,  194 

Hey  wood,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  152,  196 

Higginson,  Mr.  Wentworth,  n,  69 

Hillard,  Mr.  G.  S.,  92,  95,  101- 

102,   IIO-II4,  U8-I2O 

Hoar,  Miss  E.,  96 

Holmes,  Dr.  O.  W.,  133,  200,  211 

Hooker,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  161,  199 

Hosmer,  Harriet,  161 

"House  of   the    Seven    Gables, 

The,"  16,  128,  133-135,  173 
Howells,  Mr.  W.  D.,  quoted,  190, 

202 

Howe,  Mr.,  107 
Hunt,  Leigh,  195 

I. 

Ireland,  Alexander,  100 


James,  G.  P.  R.,  133 
!    James,  Henry,  jun.,  Hawthorne's 
biographer,    n  ;    quoted,    135, 
181 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  161,  181 
I 

K. 

Kemble,  Fanny,  133 
Keyes,  Mr.,  quoted,  96 
Knickerbocker,  The,  44 

L. 

Lander,  Miss,  161 

Lathrop,  George  Parsons,  Haw- 
thorne's son-in-law  and  bio- 
grapher, 10,  ii ;  quoted,  17, 
20,  22-24,  57-  73-  78,  87,  123, 
130 
!  Lenox,  Mass.,  132-140 

"Life  of  Franklin  Pierce,   The," 
143-148 

Lincoln,  President,  203,  204 

Lippincott,  Mrs.,  153 

Liverpool,  34,  143,  148,  149-156 

London,  158,  194-195 
!    Longfellow,   H.   W.,  24,   33,  35, 
56,  75-   76.    77,   78,  83,  92-93, 

112,    113,  2OO,  213 

:    Loring,  Dr.,    11,   130,  209,   212; 

quoted,  84-85   note,  106,    106- 

107  note,  116-117,  200 
|    Lowell,  Mr.  J.  R.,  133 
Lucas,  Mr.  S.,  195 

M. 

"Main  Street,"  121 
Manchester  Guardian,  The,  100 
Mann,  Hon.  Horace,  64,  140 
Manning,  Elizabeth  Clarke,  Haw- 


222 


INDEX. 


thorne's  mother,  see  Hathorne, 

Elizabeth  Clarke 
Manning,    Robert,    Hawthorne's 

uncle,  19-20 
"  Manning's  Folly,"  20 
Manning,  William,  Hawthorne's 

uncle,  23,  31 
Marseilles,  159 
Massachusetts  Quarterly,  The, 

130 
Masson,  M.  Paul,  his  translation 

and  criticism   of    Hawthorne's 

works,  40  note 
Melville,  Herman,  133 
Milnes,  Richard  Monckton  (Lord 

Houghton),  195 
Montegut,  M.  Emile,  his  criticism 

of  Hawthorne's  works,  40  note 
"Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse," 

33.  34.  39.  94.  106 
Motley,  Mr.,  160-161,  194,  195 


' '  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  and  his 
Wife,"  Julian  Hawthorne's,  10, 
ii 

National  Era,  The,  121 

New  England  Magazine,  The,  32, 

44 

North  American  Review,  The,  76 
Norton,  Mrs.,  194 

O. 

Old  Manse,  The,  at  Concord,  91- 

104 
O'Sullivan,  Mr.  J.   L.,    editor  of 

The.  Democratic  Review,  33,  60, 

61,  64,  103,  117,  148,  149 
"  Our  Old  Home,"  157,  196,  202, 

205 


P. 

Page,  H.  A.,  his  "Memoir"  of 
Hawthorne,  11  ;  quoted,  37-38 

Paris,  158-159 

Peabody,  Elizabeth,  10,  n,  64, 
65,  83,  116,  121,  138,  155,  186  ; 
quoted,  31-34,  122 

Peabody,  Mary,  64 

Peabody,  Sophia  A.,  see  Haw- 
thorne, Sophia  A. 

"  Peter  Rugg,  the  Missing  Man," 
William  Austin's,  68-70,  72 

Phillips,  Mr.,  the  sculptor,  199 

"  Philosophy  of  the  Plays  of 
Shakespeare,"  Hawthorne's  in- 
troduction to  Miss  Bacon's,  157 

Pierce,    Franklin,    President,    24, 

103,  143-148,    150,    180,    196, 
202,  203,  212 

Pike,  Mr.,  no 

"  Pilgrim's  Progress,  The,"  in- 
fluence of,  73 

Poe,  E.  A.,  92 

Powers,  Mr.  Hiram,  185,  186 

Putnam,  Mr.  G.  P.,  the  publisher, 
33 

R. 

Rabillon,  M.  Leonce,  his  transla- 
tion of  Hawthorne's  "Wonder 
Book,"  40  note 

Raphael,  Hawthorne's  opinion  of 
his  "  Transfiguration,"  176 

Raymond  (Maine),  20-21 

Ripley,  Dr.,  86,  88,  96 

Rome,  145,  160-191,  199 

Ropes,  Mr.,  161 

S. 
Salem,  16,   21-24,  28-33,  34,  38, 

104,  105-117,  121,  125-128, 


INDEX. 


223 


Salem  Gazette,  The,  44 

Saturday  Review,  The,  163 

"  Scarlet  Letter,  The,"  9,  34,  109, 

115,  123-131,  132,  133,  134,  135, 

139,  164,  173  ;  quoted,  15 
Schuyler,   Mr.    Eugene,    quoted, 

180 

Sedgwick,  Mrs.,  132 
"  Septimius  Felton,"  68,  142,  208- 

210 

Shepherd,  Miss  Ada,  186-188 
Slavery,    Hawthorne    and,    146- 

147 
"Snow  Image  and  other  Tales, 

The,"  121,  135  ;  quoted,  25,  34 
Spoil,   Mons.,   his   translation   of 

Hawthorne's  works,  40  note 
Stanley,  Dean,  quoted,  162-163 
Stephen,  Mr.  Leslie,  quoted,  153- 

154  note 
Stoddard,  R.  H.,  letter  to,  20-21, 

25,  28 
Story,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  W.,  n, 

160-161,     162,     166-167,    178- 

179,  181,  188 
"Storyteller,    The,"   31-32,    34; 

quoted,  38,  39 
"Study    of     Hawthorne,"     Mr. 

Lathrop's,  10 
Sumner,  Hon.  Charles,  148 

T. 
"Tales  of  the  Province  House," 

43 

Tanglewood  and  the  "Tangle- 
wood  Tales,"  135-138,  141 

Tappan  and  Dutton,  the  pub- 
lishers, 33 

Taylor,  Father,  the  Methodist, 
36-37 


Taylor,  President,  34] 
Tennyson,  Lord,  154-155 
Terry,  the  artist,  161 
Thompson,  Mr.,  161,  183 
Thoreau,  Mr.,  96,  165,  201,  213 
Ticknor,  the  publisher,  34,  211 
Tieck's  ' '  Die  Vogelscheuche, "  71- 

72 
Transcendentalism,   influence  of. 

72-73,  74,  83-85 
Transcript,  The,  17 
"Transformation,"     9,    161-170, 

177-178,     181,    184,    186,    190, 

194 

"  True  Stories  for  Children,"  33 
"  Twice-told  Tales,  The,"  31,  33, 

45.  76,  77.  83,  95.  96,  n6,  124  ; 

quoted,  37,  55 

U. 

Underwood,  F.  H.,  105 

"  Universal  History,  Peter  Par- 
ley's," Hawthorne  writes,  45 

Upham,  Hon.  C.  W.,  no  note, 
134 

V. 

Van  Buren,  President,  32,  81 
"Virtuoso's  Collection,  A.,"  67- 
70  ;  quoted,  72-73 

W. 

"  Wakefield,"  70-71 
Wandering  Jew,  influence  of  the 

idea  of  the,  67-68 
Webber,  Mr.  C.  W.,  122 
Webster,  Lady,  154  note 
West  Newton,  140-141 


224  INDEX. 

Wheeler,  Mr.  G.  S.,  ioo  "Wives     of    the    Dead,    The," 

Whipple,  Mr.,  133  quoted,  17 

Whittier,  the  poet,  121  "  Wonder    Book  for    Boys    and 

Williamson,   Mr.  G.   M.,  11,25,  Girls,  A,"  40  note,  135-138 

30,  42,  45,  61,  75,  109,  115  note, 

122,  125  Y. 

Wise,  Hon.  Henry  A.,  60-64  "Young  Provincial,  The,"  43 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

BY 
JOHN  P.  ANDERSON 

(British  Museum). 


I.  WORKS. 
II.  CONTRIBUTIONS 
TO  MAGAZINES, 
ETC. 


III.  APPENDIX — 
Biography,  Criticism,  etc. 
Magazine  Articles. 


IV.  CHRONOLOGICAL 
LIST  OF  WORKS. 


I.  WORKS. 

The  Works  of  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne. 12  vols.  [or  rather  in  24 
vols.].  Boston,  1879,  8vo. 

An  Analytical  Index  to  the 

Works  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
With  a  sketch  of  his  life  [by  E. 
M.  O'C.— i.e.,  Eva  M.  O'Con- 
nor]. Boston,  1882,  8vo. 

The  Complete  Works  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne,  with  introductory 
notes  by  G.  P.  Lathrop,  and 
illustrated  with  etchings. 
Riverside  edition.  12  vols. 
Boston,  1883,  8vo. 


Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  Tales.     2 
vols.     London,  1866,  8vo. 


Biographical  Stories  for  Children, 
etc.  Boston,  1842,  18mo. 

Biographical  Stories.  Lon- 
don [1883],  8vo. 

Biographical  Stories.   Boston, 

1883,  8vo. 

No.  10  of  The  Riverside  Literature 
Series. 

The  Blithedale  Romance.    Boston, 

1852,  12mo. 
Another    edition.       2     vols, 

London,  1852,  8vo. 
Second     edition.        London, 

1854,  8vo. 
One  of  the  series  entitled,  "Select 

Library  of  Fiction." 
Seventh     edition.        London 

[1884],  8vo. 
Transformation      and       The 

Blithedale  Romance.     London, 

1884,  8vo. 

15 


11 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Doctor  Grimshawe's  Secret.       A 

romance.     Edited,  with  preface 

nnd  notes,  by  Julian  Hawthorne. 

Boston,  1883,  8vo. 
Another    edition.       London, 

1883,  8vo. 
The  Dolliver  Romance  and  other 

pieces.     Boston,  1876,  12mo. 
The  first  two  chapters  appeared 

in  the  Atlantic.  Monthly  for  1864 and 

1865.      A   third   fragment   is   now 

included. 

— Pansie:  a  fragment.    The  last 

literary     effort     of     Nathaniel 

Hawthorne.       London    [1864], 

12mo. 
The  first  chapter  of  The  Dolliver 

Romance. 
Famous  Old  People ;    the  second 

epoch   of  Grandfather's  Chair. 

Boston,  1841,  18mo. 
Second     edition.         Boston, 

1842,  18mo. 
Fanshawe,  a  tale.     Boston,  1828, 

12mo. 

— Fanshawe   and  other  pieces. 

Boston,  1876,  8vo. 
Grandfather's  Chair:  a  history  lor 

youth.     Boston,  1841,  24ino. 
The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables  :  a 

romance.     Boston,  1851,  8vo. 
Another    edition.       London, 

1851,  8vo. 

Part  of  "Bohn's  Cheap  Series." 
Another    edition.       London, 

1852,  8vo. 

Journal  of  an  African  Cruiser.  By 
an  oilicer  of  the  U.S.  Navy 
[Horatio  Bridge].  Edited  by 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  London, 
1S45,  8vo. 

Part  of  Wiley  and  Putnam's 
Library  01  American  Books. 

Legends  of  New  England.  Cam- 
bridge, 1877,  16mo. 

Contains  "The  Gny  Champion," 
"Tim  M;iy-l'olo  of  Murry  Mount," 
"  Kridicott  ami  the  Red  Cross,"  and 
"lloger  Malvin's  Burial." 


Legends  of  the  Province  House. 
Cambridge,  1877,  16mo. 

Appeared  originally  in  the  Demo- 
cratic Review  for  1838. 

Liberty  Tree  :  with  the  last  words 
of  Grandfather's  Chair.  Boston, 
1842,  12mo. 

Life  of  Franklin  Pierce.     Boston, 

1852,  8vo. 

Another    edition.       London, 

1853,  8vo. 

The  Marble  Faun ;  or,  the  Romance 
of  Monte  Beni.  2  vols.  Boston, 
I860,  16mo. 

Second  edition.  3  vols.  Lon- 
don, 1860,  8vo. 

Another    edition.        2    vols. 

Leipzig,  1860,  8vo. 

Vols.    616,  616  of  the  Tauchnitz 
Collection  of  British  Authors. 

Illustrated  edition.     London, 

1865,  8vo. 

Another    edition.        2    vols. 

Cambridge,  1871,  12mo. 

Another  edition.  Transform- 
ation; or,  the  Romance  of  Monte 
Beni.  3  vols.  London,  1860, 
8vo. 

Another  edition.     Illustrated 

with  photogravures.  [With  an 
introductory  note  by  G.  P.  L. — 
i.e.,  G.  P.  Lathrop.]  2  vols. 
Boston,  1889,  8vo. 

Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse.  2  pts. 
London,  1846,  8vo. 

Part    of    Wiley    and    Putnam's 
Library  of  American  Books. 

Another  edition.     New  York, 

1850,  12mo. 

Another  edition.    2  pts.    New 

York  [1851],  12mo. 

Another    edition.       London, 

1852,  8vo. 

— Another    edition.        2    vols. 

Boston,  1854,  12mo. 

Another    edition.        London 

[1884],  T2mo. 
Part  of  the  Chandos  Classics. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


in 


Our  Old  Home.  Boston,  1863, 
16  mo. 

Another    edition.        2    vols. 

London,  1863,  8vo. 

— Another  edition.    Edinburgh, 

1884,  8vo. 

Part  of  Pater  son's  Shilling 
Library. 

Passages  from  the  American  Note- 
Books  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
2  vols.  Boston,  1868,  8vo. 

Another    edition.        2    vols. 

London,  1868,  8vo. 

Passages  from  the  English  Note- 
Books  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
[Edited  by  S.  H.— i.e.,  Sophia 
Hawthorne.]  2  vols.  Boston, 

1870,  12mo. 

Another  edition.  2  vols. 

London,  1870,  Svo. 

Passages  from  the  French  and 
Italian  Note-Books  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne.  2  vols.  London, 

1871,  Svo. 

Another    edition.        Boston, 

1873,  Svo. 

Forming  part  of  "Hawthorne's 
Works.  Illustrated  Library  Edi- 
tion." 

Passages  from  the  Note- Books  of 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  With 
an  introduction  by  M.  D.  Con- 
way.  London,  1869,  Svo. 

A  Rill  from  the  Town  Pump,  by 
Hawthorne.  With  remarks  by 
Telba.  London,  1S57,  12mo. 

Originally  published  in  "The 
New  England  Magazine,"  vol.  viii., 
lS3f>. 

The   Scarlet   Letter:    a  romance. 

Boston,  1850,  16mo. 
Another    edition.       London, 

1851,  Svo. 
Another    edition.       London, 

1851,  Svo. 

Forming  part  of   the  "Railway 
Library." 
Another    edition.       London, 

1852,  Svo. 


Another    edition.       Leipzig, 

1852,  16mo. 

Vol.  226  of  the  Tauchnitz  Collection 
Of  British,  Authors. 

Another  edition.  With  illus- 
trations by  Miss  M.  E.  Dear. 
London  [1859],  Svo. 

Another  edition.    Illustrated. 

Boston,  1878,  Svo. 

Another    edition.        London 

[1886J,  Svo. 
Part  of  CasseWs  Red  Library. 

Another    edition.        London 

[1887],  Svo. 

SeptimiusFelton  ;  or,  the  Elixir  of 
Life.  Boston,  1872,  Svo. 

Appeared  originally  in  vols.  29 
and  30,  1872,  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly. 

Another  edition.     Septimius. 

A  romance.  [Edited  by  Una 
Hawthorne.]  London,  1872, 
Svo. 

Sketches  and  Studies.  Boston 
[1883],  Svo. 

The  Snow  Image  and  other  Tales. 
London,  1851,  Svo. 

Part  of  "  Bohn's  Cheap  Series." 
"  The  Snow  Image"  appeared  origin- 
ally in  a  volume  entitled  "The 
Memorial :  written  by  friends  of  the 
late  Mrs.  Osgood,  and  edited  by 
Mary  E.  Howitt,"  New  York,  1851. 

Another  edition.     The  Snow 

Image  and  other  Twice  Told 
Tales.  Boston,  1852,  12mo. 

Another    edition.       Boston, 

1857,  Svo. 

Another    edition.        Boston, 

1869,  Svo. 

Another  edition.    Edinburgh, 

1883,  Svo. 

Part  of  Paterson's  Shilling 
Library — New  England  Novels. 

Tales  of  the  White  Hills.  Boston, 
1877,  16mo. 

Contains  "The  Great  Stonfc 
Face,"  "  The  Great  Carbuncle,"  and 
"The  Ambitious  Guest." 

Tanglewood  Tales.  See  infra: 
A  Wonder- Book,  etc. 


IV 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Transformation  ;  or,  the  Romance 
of  Monte  Beni.  See  supra : 
The  Marble  Faun. 

True  Stories  from  History  and 
Biography.  Boston,  1851, 
12mo. 

Includes  "Grandfather's  Chair," 
originally  published  in  1841; 
"Famous  Old  People:  being  the 
second  epoch  of  Grandfather's 
Chair,"  1841;  "Liberty  Tree,  with 
the  last  words  of  Grandfather's 
Chair,"  1842,  and  "Biographical 
Stories,"  1842. 

Twice-Told  Tales.  Boston,  1837, 
8vo. 

The  first  series  of  the  "Tales." 
The  edition  published  in  1842 
included  a  second  series. 

Another     edition.       2    vols. 

Boston,  1842,  8vo. 
New  edition.    2pts.   London, 

1851,  8vo. 

Part  of  "Bonn's  Shilling  Series." 
New  edition.    2  pts.    London, 

1852,  8vo. 

Another     edition.       2    vols. 

Boston,  1864,  32mo. 
New  edition.   2  vols.   Boston, 

1866,  8vo. 
New  edition.    London  [1883], 

8vo. 

Twice-Told  Tales.  Lon- 
don [1849],  8vo. 

Selections  from  the  two  series  of 

"Twice-Told  Tales." 
A  Virtuoso's  Collection,  and  other 

Tales.     Boston,  1877,  16mo. 

Contains  "A  Virtuoso's  Collec- 
tion," "The  Celestial  Railroad," 

and  "A  Select  Party." 
A    Wonder- Book    for    Girls    and 

Boys,  etc.    Boston,  1851,  12mo. 
Another    edition.        Boston, 

1852,  12mo. 
Another  edition.     (Including 

"Tanglewood  Tales.")      2  pts. 

London,  1868  [1867],  8vo. 
Tanglewood    Tales    [and]    A 

Wonder-Book,     etc.       London 

[1883],  8vo. 


A  Wonder-Book  for  Girls  and 

Boys.       With    illustrations   by 

F.  S.  Church.      Boston  [1884], 

8vo. 
Another    edition.       London,. 

1885  [1884],  8vo. 
Tanglewood  Tales,   for  Girls 

and    Boys:     being     a     second 

Wonder- Book.     London,  1853, 

8vo. 
New  edition.    London  [1855],. 

16mo. 
Another     edition.        London 

[1855],  16mo. 
Another    edition.        Boston, 

1857,  16mo. 
Another     edition.        London 

[1882],  8vo. 

Part  of  the  Chandos  Classics. 
Another    edition.       London,. 

1884,  8vo. 

Part     of     Black's     Educational 

Series. 

Another  edition.    With  illus- 
trations   by    G.    W.    Edwards. 

Boston,  1887,  8vo. 
Another    edition.       London,. 

1888  [1887],  4to. 

II.    CONTRIBUTIONS  TO 
MAGAZINES,  ETC. 

The  Token  (Boston)— 
Sights   from  a   Steeple;    1831, 

pp.  41-51. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Wives  of  the  Dead;  1832, 

pp.  74-82. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image  and 
other  Tales.    It  also  appeared  in  the 
Democratic  Review  for  1843,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Two  Widows." 
My  Kinsman,  Major  Molineux; 

1832,  pp.  89-116. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image  and 
other  Tales. 
Roger  Malvin's  Burial;     1832, 

pp.  161-188. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old. 
Manse. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


The  Token  (Boston)— 
The    Gentle    Boy;    1832,    pp. 

193-240. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
It  also  appeared  as  a  separate  work 
in  1839. 

Sir  William  Pepperell  ;    1833. 
Included    in    the   volume   with 
Fanshawe. 

The  Seven  Vagabonds;   18  33. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Canterbury  Pilgrims  ;  1833. 

Reprinted   in  The   Snow   Image 
and  other  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Haunted  Mind  ;    1835,  pp. 

76-82. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Alice   Doane's    Appeal  ;    1835, 

pp.  84-101. 

Reprinted  in  Tales,  Sketches,  etc., 
vol.  xii.  of  the  Complete  Works  of 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
The  Mermaid:    1835,  pp.    106- 

121. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales  as 
"  The  Village  Uncle." 
Monsieur  du  Miroir  ;  1837,  pp. 

49-64. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
Sunday    at    Home;   1837,    pp. 

88-96. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The    Man    of    Adamant  ;      an 

apologue  ;  1837,  pp.  119-128. 

Reprinted  in  The   Snow  Image 
and  other  Tales. 
David  Swan ;    1837,    pp.    147- 

155. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Great  Carbuncle;  1837,  pp. 

156-175. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Fancy's  Show  Box  ;  1837,  pp. 

177-184. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Prophetic  Pictures;    1837, 

pp.  289-307. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Talet. 
Sylph  Etheridge;  1838,  pp.  22- 

32. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image 
and  other  Tales. 


The  Token  (Boston)— 
Peter    Goldthwaite's  Treasure : 

1838,  pp.  37-65. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Endicott  and  the   Red   Cross  ; 

1838,  pp.  69-78. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Night     Sketches,    beneath    an 

Umbrella  ;   1838,  pp.  81-89. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Shaker  Bridal ;    1838,  pp. 

117-125. 

Reprinted  in  Ticice-Told  Tales. 
New  England  Magazine — 

The    Story    Teller,    vol.     vii., 

1834,  pp.  352-358,  449-459. 
Reprinted    as  "Passages  from  a 

Relinquished  Work"  in  Mosses  from 
an  Old  Manse. 

Mr.       Higginbotham's      Cata- 
strophe, vol.   vii.,  1834,  pp. 
450-459. 
Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 

The      Gray     Champion,      vol. 
viii.,  1835,  pp.  20-26. 
Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 

Old  News:  I.  The  Colonial 
Newspaper.  II.  The  Old 
French  War.  III.  The  Old 
Tory,  vol.  viii.,  1835,  pp. 
81-88,  170-178,  365-370. 
Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image 

and  other  Tales. 

My  Visit  to  Niagara,  vol.  viii., 

1835,  pp.  91-96. 

Reprinted    in    The   Dolliver  Ro- 
mance and  other  pieces. 
Young   Goodman    Brown,   vol. 

viii.,  1835,  pp.  249-260. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
Wakefield,   vol.  viii.,  1835,  pp. 

341-347. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Ambitious  Guest,  vol.  viii., 

1835,  pp.  425-431. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Graves  and  Goblins,  vol.  viii., 

1835,  pp.  438-444. 

Reprinted   in    The   Dolliver   Ro- 
mance. 


VI 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


New  England  Magazine — 

A  Rill  from  the   Town  Pump, 

vol.  viii.,  1835,  pp.  473-478. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The  Old  Maid  in  the  Winding 

Sheet,    vol.    ix.,    1835,    pp. 

8-16. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Talcs  as 
"  The  White  Old  Maid." 
The   Vision   of   the    Fountain, 

vol.  ix.,  1835,  pp.  99-104. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Sketches  from  Memory,  vol.  ix., 

1835,  pp.  321-326,  398-409. 
Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 

Manse. 

The  Devil  in  Manuscript,  vol. 

ix.,  1835,  pp.  340-345. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image 
and  other  Tales. 

American    Magazine    of    Useful 

Knowledge — 
An  Ontario  Steam-Boat,  vol.  ii., 

1836,  pp.  270-272. 
Preservation  of  the  Dead,  vol. 

ii.,  1836,  pp.  314,  315. 
The  Boston  Tea-Party,  vol.  ii., 

1836,  pp.  317-319. 
April  Fools,  vol.  ii.,  1836,  pp. 

339,  340. 
Nature  of  Sleep,  vol.  ii.,  1836, 

p.  385. 

Bells,  vol.  ii.,  1836,  p.  387. 
The  Duston   Family,   vol.    ii, 

1836,  pp.  395-397. 
Knickerbocker — 

The    Fountain  of  Youth,  vol. 

ix.,  1837,  pp.  27-33. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales, 
under  the  title  "Dr.  Heidegger's 
Experiment." 

A.    Bell's   Biography,   vol.  ix., 

1837,  pp.  219-223. 
Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image  and 

other  Tales. 

Edward  Fane's  Rosebud,  vol.  x., 
1837,  pp.  195-199. 
Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 


American  Monthly  Magazine — 
The  Threefold  Destiny,  vol.  v.r 
1838,  pp.  228-235. 
Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
The    Southern    Ruse,    a    weekly 
newspaper,       published      at 
Charleston — 
The  Lily's  Quest,  Jan.  19,  1839. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Democratic  Review — 

Footprints   on    the    Sea-Shore, 
vol.  i.,1838,  p.  190. 
Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Tales   of    the    Province-House: 

1.  Howe's    Masquerade.     II. 
Edward  Randolph's  Portrait. 

III.  Lady  Eleanor's  Mantle. 

IV.  Old  Esther  Dudley,  vol. 

2,  1838,    pp.    129-140,    360- 
369;    vol.    3,    pp.     321-332; 
vol.  5,  pp.  51-59. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Chippings  with  a  Chisel,  vol.  3, 

1838,  pp.  18-26. 

Reprinted  in  Twice-Told  Tales. 
Jonathan  Cilley,  vol.  3,  1838, 

pp.  67-76. 

Included    in    the    volume   with 
Fanshawe. 
John  Inglefield's  Thanksgiving, 

vol.  7,  1840,  pp.  209-212. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image  and 
other  Tales. 
The  New  Adam  and  Eve,  vol. 

12  N.S.,  1843,  pp.  146-155. 

Reprinted  in  Messes  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
Egotism ;  or,  the  Bosom  Serpent, 

from  the  unpublished  "  Alle- 
gories of  the  Heart,"  vol.  12 

N.S.,  1843,  pp.  255-261. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
The  Procession  of  Life,  vol.   12 

N.S.,  1843,  pp.  360-366. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
The  Celestial  Railroad,  vol.  12 

N.S.,  1843,  pp.  515-524. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


vu 


Democratic  Review  — 

Buds  and  Bird  Voices,  vol.   12 

N.S.,  1843,  pp.  604-608. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
Fire-  Worship,    vol.    13     N.S., 

1843,  pp.  627-630. 

Reprinted    in    Mosses  from  an 
Old  Manse. 
The  Christmas  Banquet,  vol.  14 

N.S.,  1844,  pp.  78-87. 

Reprinted    in    Mosses  from    an 
Old  Manse. 
The  Intelligence  Office,  vol.  14 

N.S.,  1844,  pp.  269-275. 
Reprinted    in    Mosses   from    an 
Old  Manse. 
The  Artist  of  the  Beautiful,  vol. 

14N.S.,  1844,  pp.  605-617. 

Reprinted    in    Mosses  from    an 
Old  Manse. 
A  Select  Party,  vol.  15    N.S., 


1844,  pp.  33-40. 

ted  in 
Old  Manse. 


Reprint 


Mosses  from,     an 


A  Book  of  Autographs,  vol.  15 

N.S.,  1844,  pp.  454-461. 
Reprinted  in  The  Dolliver  Romance. 
Writings     of     Aubepine  —  Rap- 

paccini's   Daughter,    vol.    15 

N.S.,  1844,  pp.  545-560. 

Reprinted    in    Mosses  from    an 
Old  Manse. 
P's     Correspondence,     vol.     16 

N.S.,  1845,  pp.  337-345. 

Reprinted   in    Mosses   from    an 
Old  Manse. 
Papers   of  an    Old    Dartmouth 

Prisoner,  vol.  18  N.S.,  1846, 

pp.  31-39,    97-111,    200-212, 

360-368,  457-4^5. 
Pioneer  — 

The  Birthmark,  1843. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
The  Hall  of  Fantasy. 

Reprinted  in  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 
^Esthetic  Papers.    Edited  by  Eliza- 

bethP.Peabody,  Boston.  1849— 
Main  Street,  pp.  145-174. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image  and 
other  Tales. 


The    National     Era     (Washing- 
ton)— 
The   Great    Stone   Face ;    Jan. 

24,  1850. 

Reprinted  in  The  Snow  Image,  etc. 
Dollar  Magazine — 

The  Unpardonable  Sin  ;  1851. 

Reprinted  in   The   Snow   Image 
and  other  Tales,  as  "  Ethan  Brand." 
International  Magazine — 

Feathertop,  vol.     5,    1852,   pp. 

182-186,  333-337. 

Reprinted  in  Mouses  from  an  Old 
Manse. 

The  Philosophy  of  the  Plays  of 
Shakspere  unfolded.  By  Delia 
Bacon.  With  a  Preface  by 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  Lon- 
don, 1857,  8vo. 

Harper  s  New  Monthly  Magazine — 
Uttoxeter,  vol.  14,  1S57,  pp. 

639-641. 

Reprinted  in  Our  Old  Home. 
Weal  -  Beat:     A    Record   of    the 

Essex  Institute  Fair,  held   at 

Salem,  Sept.  4-8,  1860— 
Browne's  Folly,  pp.  14  and  24. 

Reprinted   in    The   Dolliver  Ro- 
mance. 
Atlantic  Monthly — 

Some  of  the  Haunts  of  Burns, 

vol.  6,  1860,  pp.  385-395. 
Near  Oxford,  vol.  8,   1861,  pp. 

385-397. 
Pilgrimage  to  Old  Boston,  vol. 

9,  1862,  pp.  88-101. 
Leamington  Spa,  vol.  10,  1862, 

pp.  4M-462. 
About  Warwick,  vol.  10,  1862, 

pp.  708-720. 
Recollections      of      a      Gifted 

Woman    (Delia    Bacon),  vol. 

11,  1863,  pp.  43-58. 
A    London    Suburb,    vol.     11, 

1863,  pp,  306-321. 
Up  the  Thames,  vol.  11,   1863, 

pp.  598-614. 
Outside    Glimpses    of     English 

Poetry,    vol.     12,    1863,    pp. 

36-51. 


viii 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Atlantic  Monthly — 

Civic  Banquets,  vol.   12,   1863, 

pp.  195-212. 
The  ten  preceding  articles  were 

collected  and  published  in  Our  Old 

Home  in  1863. 
Chiefly  about  War  Matters,  vol. 

10,  1862,  pp.  43-61.      • 
Reprinted   in  vol.   xii.  of  the 

Collected  Works,  1883. 
A  Scene  from  the  Dolliver  Ro- 
mance,   vol.    14,    1864,    pp. 

101-109. 
Another  Scene  from  the  Dolliver 

Romance,  vol.  15,  1865,  pp. 

Reprinted  in  book  form  in  1876 
with  the  addition  of  a  third  frag- 
ment. 

Passages  from  Hawthorne's 
Note- Books,  vol.  17,  1866, 
pp.  1-10,  170-178,  257-266, 
422-432,  565-571,  725-734; 
vol.  18,  pp.  40-47,  189-196, 
288-295,  450-460,  536-544, 
682-697  ;  vol.  iO,  pp.  15-21. 

Reprinted  in  book  form  at 
Boston  in  1868. 

Hawthorne  in  the  Boston 
Custom  -  House.  [Extracts 
from  his  private  letters.] 
Vol.  21,  1868,  pp.  106-111. 

SeptimiusFelton;  or,  the  Elixir 
of  Life,  vol.  29,  1872,  pp. 
5-14,  129-138,  '^57-266,  475- 
484,  566-576,  645-655;  vol. 
30,  pp.  1-18,  129-144. 

Published  at  Boston  in  book 
form  the  same  year. 


III.  APPENDIX. 
BIOGRAPHY,  CRITICISM,  ETC. 

American     Authors. — Homes     of 

American    Authors,    etc.      [By 

George  W.  Curtis.]    New  York, 

1853,  8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  291-313. 


Bolton,  Sarah  K. — Famous  Ameri- 
can Authors.  New  York  [1887], 
8vo. 

Nathaniel    Hawthorne    and   his 
Family,  pp.  104-132. 

Bungay,  George  W.— Off-Hand 
Takings ;  or,  Crayon  Sketches 
of  the  Noticeable  Men  of  our 
Age.  New  York  [1860],  8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.    210- 
213* 

Con  way,  Moncure  D. — An  Intro- 
duction to  "  Passages  from 
the  Note-Books  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne."  London, 1869,8vo. 

Emerson  at  Home  and  Abroad. 

Boston,  1882,  8vo. 

Nathaniel  and  Sophia  Hawthorne, 
pp.  256-278. 

Di  ake,  Samuel  Adams.  — Our  Great 
Benefactors,  etc.    Boston,  1884, 
8vo. 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  116-124. 

Emmerton,  James  A.,  and  Waters, 
Henry  F.— Gleanings  from 
English  Records  about  New 
England  Families.  Salem,  1880, 
8vo. 

Pedigree     of    Nathaniel     Haw- 
thorne,  pp.  53-55. 

Fields,  James T.— Yesterdays  with 
Authors.     Boston,  1873/8vo. 
Hawthorne,  pp.  39-124. 
Hawthorne.    Illustrated. 


Boston,  1876,  24mo. 

Part  of  the  "  Vest-pocket  Series  of 

Standard  Authors." 
Hawthorne,    Julian.  —  Nathaniel 

Hawthorne  and  his  Wife.      A 

biography.     2    vols.      London, 

1885,  8vo. 
Hazeltiue,    Mayo    Williamson. — 

Chats  about  Books,  Poets,  and 

Novelists.     New    York,    1883, 

8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  260-271. 
3igginson,    Thomas    W.  —  Short 

Studies  of  American  Authors. 

Boston,  1888,  8vo. 
Hawthorne,  pp.  3-11. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Hutton,  Richard  Holt. — Essays, 
theological  and  literary.  2  vols. 
London,  1871,  8vo. 

Nathaniel   Hawthorne,    vol.  ii., 
pp.  392-449. 

,  James,  Henry,  Jun. — Hawthorne. 
London,  1879,  8vo. 

Part  of  the  English  Men  of  Letters 
Series. 

,  Lathrop,  George  Parsons.  —  A 
Study  of  Hawthorne.  Boston, 
1876, 16mo. 

Montegut,  E.  —  Contes  etranges 
imites  d'Hawthorne  par  E.  A. 
Spoil,  precedes  d'une  etude  par 
E.  Montegut.  Clichy,  1866, 
12mo. 

Nichol,  John. — American  Litera- 
ture ;  an  historical  sketch, 
1620-1880.  Edinburgh,  1882, 
8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  322- 
352. 

Page,  H.  A.,  pseud.  \i.e.t  A.  H. 
Japp], — Memoir  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne ;  with  stories  now 
first  published  in  this  country. 
London,  1872,  8vo. 
Peck,  E.  W.— Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne's Scarlet  Letter  drama- 
tised. A  play  in  five  acts. 
Boston,  1876,  4to. 
Poe,  Edgar  A.— The  Literati; 
some  honest  opinions  about 
autorial  merits  and  demerits, 
etc.  New  York,  1850,  8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  188- 
202. 

Salt,  H.  S.— Literary  Sketches. 
London,  1888,  8vo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  Ro- 
mances, pp.  189-207;  appeared 
originally  in  Progress,  Sept.  1887. 

Shepard,  William. — The  Literary 
Life.  Pen  Pictures  of  Modern 
Authors.  New  York,  1882, 
12mo. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  pp.  150- 
160. 

Smith,  George  Barnett. —  Poets 
and  Novelists ;  a  series  of 


literary  studies.    London,  1875, 
8vo. 

Nathaniel    Hawthorne,  pp.  151- 

Stephen,     Leslie. — Hours     in     a 
Library.     London,  1874,  8vo. 

Nathaniel   Hawthorne,  pp.   256- 
298. 

Symonds,  Joseph  W. — Nathaniel 
Hawthorne.      An    Oration    de- 
livered   before    the   Alumni   of 
Bowdoin  College,  July  10,  1878. 
Portland,  1878,  Svo. 
Tuckerman,    Henry    T.  —  Mental 
Portraits.     London,  1853,  Svo. 
The  Prose  Poet :  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, pp.  250-270. 
Whipple,    Edwin     P. — Character 
and  Characteristic  Men.     Bos- 
ton, 1866,  8vo. 

Nathaniel   Hawthorne,    pp.  218- 
242. 

Wilson,  James  Grant,  and  Fiske, 
John. — Appleton's  Cyclopaedia 
of  American  Biography.  New 
York,  1887,  etc.,  Svo. 

Nathaniel   Hawthorne,  vol.   iii., 
pp.  124-130. 

MAGAZINE  ARTICLES,  ETC. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel. — Christian 
Examiner,  by  A.  P.  Peabody,  vol. 
25,  1838,  pp.  182-190.— Demo- 
cratic Re  view,  vol.  16  N.S.,  1845, 
pp.  376-384. — American  Review, 
by  C.  W.Webber,  vol.  4, 1846,  pp. 
296-316. — New  Englander,  by  S. 
W.  S.  Button,  vol.  5,  1847,  pp. 
56-69. — International  Magazine 
(with  portrait),  vol.  3,  1851, 
pp.  156-160, — Southern  Liter- 
ary Messenger,  by  H.  T. 
Tuckerman,  vol.  17,  1851,  pp. 
344-349.— New  Monthly  Maga- 
zine, vol.  94,  1852,  pp.  202- 
207 ;  same  article,  Littell's 
Living  Age,  vol.  33,  pp.  17-19. 
— New  Monthly  Magazine,  vol. 
98,  1853,  pp.  202-212;  same 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel, 
article,  Littell's  Living  Age, 
vol.  38,  pp.  154-160,  and 
Eclectic  Magazine,  vol.  29,  pp. 
481-488. — Yale  Literary  Maga- 
zine, vol.  19,  1854,  pp.  247-254. 
— Dublin  University  Magazine, 
vol.  46,  1855,  pp.  463-469; 
same  article,  Eclectic  Magazine, 
vol.  36,  pp.  996-1001.— Tait's 
Edinburgh  Magazine,  vol.  22 
N.S.,  1855,  pp.  33-41  ;  vol.  23, 
pp.  756,  757. — Revue  Contem- 
poraine,  by  L.  Etienne,  torn. 
81,  1857,  pp.  633-663.— Uni- 
versal Review,  vol.  3,  1860,  pp. 
742-771  ;  same  article,  Littell's 
Living  Age,  vol.  65,  pp.  707- 
723. — National  Review,  vol.  11, 
1860,  pp.  453-481;  same  article, 
Littell's  Living  Age,  vol. 
68,  pp.  217-232,  —  Atlantic 
Monthly,  by  E.  P.  Whipple, 
vol.  5,  1860,  pp.  614-622.— Yale 
Literary  Magazine,  vol.  28, 
1862,  pp.  300-303.  —  Black- 
wood's  Edinburgh  Magazine, 
vol.  94,  1863,  pp.  610-623.— 
Macmillan's  Magazine,  by  E. 
Dicey,  vol.  10,  1864,  pp/241- 
246, — Sharpe's  London  Maga- 
zine, by  C.  Kendal,  vol.  26 
N.S.,  1865,  pp.  29-33.  — 
Methodist  Quarterly,  by  W.  H. 
Barnes,  vol.  48,  1866,  pp.  51- 
64. — North  British  Review,  vol. 
49,  1868,  pp.  173-208  ;  same 
article,  Littell's  Living  Age,  vol. 
99,  pp.  67-86. — Once  a  Week, 
vol.  1,  3rd  Series,  1868,  pp. 
562,  563. — Appleton's  Journal 
(with  portrait),  vol.  4,  1870, 
405-408.  —  Lippincott's  Maga- 
zine, by  H.  T.  Tuckerman,  vol. 
5,  1870,  pp.  498-507.— Saint 
Paul's,  by  Matthew  Browne,  vol. 
8,  1871,  pp.  150-161  ;  same 
article,  Eclectic  Magazine,  vol. 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel. 

77,  pp.  174-1SO.  —  Cornhill 
Magazine,  vol.  23,  1871,  pp. 
321-336,  444-456,  566-575  ; 
same  article,  Littell's  Living 
Age,  vol.  116,  pp.  195-207.— 
Cornhill  Magazine,  by  Leslie 
Stephen,  vol.  26,  1872,  pp.  717- 
734.— Harper's  New  Monthly 
Magazine,  by  R.  H.  Stoddard, 
vol.  45,  1872,  pp.  683-697.— 
Belgravia,  by  K.  Cook,  vol.  9, 
2nd  Series,  1873,  pp.  72-79. — 
Scribner's  Monthly,  by  G.  P. 
Lathrop,  vol.  11,  1876,  pp.  799- 
808.— Catholic  World,  by  J.  V. 
O'Conor,  vol.  32,  1881,  pp.  231- 
237.— Critic  (New  York),  by  J. 
H.  Morse,  vol.  3,  1883,  pp.  65, 
66. — Spectator,  Nov.  22,  1884r 
pp.  1546,  1547  ;  Nov.  29,  pp. 
1579,  1580.— New  Englander, 
by  J.  S.  Sewall,  vol.  44,  1885, 
pp.  403-423.  —  Critic  (New 
York),  by  J.  T.  Fields,  vol.  6- 
N.S.,  1886,  pp.  177,  178.— 
Good  Words,  by  Francis  H. 
Underwood,  1887,  pp.  664-671. 
— Atalanta,  by  R.  Garnett, 
June  1890,  pp.  617-621. 

among  his  Friends.    Harper's 

New  Monthly  Magazine,  by  G. 
H.  Holden,  vol.  63,  1881,  pp. 
260-267. 

and    George   Eliot.        North 

British  Review,  vol.  33,  1860, 
pp.  165-185. 

and  his  Teachings.     Catholic 

Presbyterian,  by  A.  C.  Roe,  vol. 
6,  1881,  pp.  33-42,  197-213. 

and    his    Wife.        Saturday 

Review,  vol.  58,  1884,  pp.  759, 
760. — Atlantic  Monthly,  vol. 
55,  1855,  pp.  259-265.— Temple 
Bar,  by  E.  Markwick,  vol.  75, 
1885,  pp.  523-538.— Critic  (Bos- 
ton), by  R.  H.  Stoddard,  Dec. 
13, 1884,  pp.  277,278.—  Nation, 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


XI 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel. 
Dec.  18,  1884,  pp.  525,  526.— 
Academy,  by  E.  Purcell,  vol. 
26, 1884,  pp.  350-352. — Literary 
World  (Boston),  vol.  15,  1884, 
pp.  478,  479. 

and   Julian.       "Western,    by 

Elizabeth  P.  Peabody,  vol.  1, 
1875,  pp.  352-359. 

and  Poe.  Galaxy,  by  E.  Ben- 
son, vol.  6,  1868,  pp.  742-748. 

Attitude  towards  Catholicism. 

Catholic  World,  by  A.  F. 
Hewitt,  vol.  42,  1886,  pp.  21- 
34. 

Blithedale    Romance.       New 

Quarterly  Review,  vol.  1,  1852, 
pp.  413-415.— Westminster  Re- 
view, vol.  58,  1852,  pp.  592- 
598. — New  Monthly  Magazine, 
vol.  95,  1852,  pp.  334-343 ; 
same  article,  Littell's  Living 
Age,  vol.  34,  pp.  327-332.— 
Brownson's  Quarterly  Review, 
vol.  6  N.S.,  1852,  pp.  561-564. 
— North  American  Review,  by 
A.  P.  Peabody,  vol.  76,  1853, 
pp..  227-248.— Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes,  by  Enrile  Montegut, 
torn.  16,  1852,  pp.  809-841. 

Day  in  the  Haunts  of.  Over- 
land Monthly,  vol.  4,  1870,  pp. 
516-520. 

Dr.  Grimshawes  Secret.    New 

Englander,  by  J.  R.  Potter,  vol. 
42,  1883,  pp.  339-353.— Satur- 
day Review,  vol.  55,  1883,  pp. 
25,  26.— Dial,  by  M.  P.  Mason, 
vol.  3,  1883,  pp.  222-221.— 
Spectator,  Dec.  30,  1^82,  pp. 
1686,  1687. — Athenaeum,  Jan. 
6,  1883,  pp,  9-11. — Literary 
World  (Boston),  vol.  14,  1883, 
pp.  3,  4. 

Elixir  of  Life.      Lippincott'a 

Monthly  Magazine,  by  Julian 
Hawthorne,  Jan.  1890,  pp.  66- 
76 ;  Feb.,  pp.  224-235 ;  March, 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel, 
pp.   412-425;    April,    pp.   548- 
561. 

English  Note-Books.    Nation, 

by  J.  R.  Dennett,  vol.  11,  1870, 
pp.  59-61.— Atlantic  Monthly, 
by  G.  S.  Hillard,  vol.  26,  1870, 
pp.  257-272. 

Exhumed       Sketch.        Open 

Court  (Chicago),  by  M.  D.  Con- 
way,  vol.  3,  No.  119,  Dec.  5, 
1889. 

French  and  Italian  Journals. 

Nation,  by  H.  James,  Jun.,  vol. 
14,  1872,  pp.  172,  173.— Saint 
Paul's,  by  George  P.  Lathrop, 
vol.  9,  1871,  pp.  311-313. 

Genius  of.    Western  Monthly, 

by  Robert  Collyer,  vol.  1,  186P, 
pp.  30-34. — Atlantic  Monthly, 
by  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody,  vol. 
22,  1868,  pp.  359-374.— North 
American  Review,  by  A.  Trol- 
lope,  vol.  129.  1879,  pp.  203- 
222. 

House  of  Seven  Gables.  North 
American  Review,  by  A.  P. 
Peabody,  vol.  76,  1853,  pp.  227- 
248.— Knickerbocker,  vol.  37, 
1851,  pp.  455-457. 

in  Undress.     Argosy,  vol.  13, 

1872,  pp.  109-115. 

James's  Life  of.     Nation,  by 

W.  C.  Brownell,  vol.  30,  1880, 
pp.  80,  81. 

Life  and  Writings  of.  Lon- 
don Quarterly  Review,  vol.  37, 
1871,  pp.  48-78. 

Look  into  the   Workshop  of. 

Century,  vol.  25, 1883,  pp.  433- 
448. 

Manuscripts     of.        Atlantic 

Monthly,  by  G.  P.  Lathrop, 
vol.  51,  1883,  pp.  363-375. 

Marble  Faun.  Westmin- 
ster Review,  vol.  17  N.S., 
1860,  pp.  624-627.  —  Dublin 
University  Magazine,  vol.  55, 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel. 

1860,  pp.  679-688.  —  Revue  des 
Deux  Alondes,  by  Emile  Mon- 
tegut,  torn.  28,  1860,  pp.  668- 
703. — New  Englander,  by  Mrs. 
M.  T.  Gale,  vol.  19,  1861,  pp. 
860-870.— Western,  by  H.  Reed, 
vol.  5,  1879,  pp.  265-273.— 
New  Englander,  by  E.  W.  Rob- 
bins,  vol.  18,  1860^  pp.  441-452. 
— Scribner's  Monthly,  by  W.  L. 
Alden,  vol.  2,  1871,  pp.  493- 
494.— Nation  (New  York),  by 
Eugene  Schuyler,  July  11  and 
18,  1889. 

Old  Manse  at  Concord.  Apple- 
ton's  Journal,  by  A.  B.  Harris, 
vol.  8,  1872,  pp.  300-301. 

on   England.        Blackwood's 

Edinburgh  Magazine,  vol.  94, 
1863,  pp.  610-623. 

Passages  from  Note-Books  of. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  vol.  17, 
1866,  pp.  1-10,  170-178,  257- 
266,  422-432,  565-571,  725-734  ; 
vol.  18,  pp.  40-47,  189-196,  288- 
295,  450-460,  536-544,  682-697; 
vol.  20,  pp.  15-21. 

Philosophy  of.     Century,  by 

Julian  Hawthorne,  vol.  32, 
1886,  pp.  83-93. 

Portrait  of.      Harper's  New 

Monthly  Magazine,  vol.  73, 
1886,  pp.  164,  309-11. 

Romances    of.       Fortnightly 

Review,  by  W.  L.  Courtney, 
vol.  40  N.S.,  1886,  pp.  511- 
522.— Progress,  by  H.  S.  Salt, 
Sept.  1887,  pp.  262-269;  re- 
printed in  Literary  Sketches, 
1888.— Revue  des  Deux  Moudes, 
by  E.  D.  Forgues,  torn.  14, 
1852,  pp.  337-365. 

Salem  of.  Century  Maga- 
zine, by  Julian  Hawthorne, 
vol.  28,  1884,  pp.  3-17. 

Scarlet  Letter.  North  Ameri- 
can Review,  by  A.  W.  Abbott, 


Hawthorne,  Nathaniel. 

vol.  71,   1850,    pp.    135-148.— 

Littell's  Living  Age  (from  the 

New  York    Tribune),   vol.  25, 

1850,  pp.  203-207. — Brownson's 

Quarterly  Review,  vol.  4  N.S., 

1850,  pp.  528-532. 
Problems      of      Scarlet 

Letter.     Atlantic  Monthly,  by 

Julian     Hawthorne,     vol.    57, 

1886,  pp.  471-485. 
Scenes    of     his     Romances. 

Century,  by  Julian  Hawthorne, 

vol.  28,  1884,  pp.  380-397. 
Septimius  Felton.     Scribner's 

Monthly,  by  T.  H.  Higginson, 

vol.    5,    1872,    pp.    100-105.— 

Atlantic    Monthly,    by    G.    P. 

Lathrop,    vol.    30,    1872,    pp. 

452-460. 
Supernatural  in.      Overland 

Monthly,  by  D.  Libby,  vol.  2, 

1869,  pp.  138-143. 
Transformation;      or,      the 

Romance  of  Monte  Beni.     See 

Marble  Faun. 
Twice- Told     Tales.       North 

American   Review,    by   H.   W. 

Longfellow,  vol.  45,  1837,  pp. 

59-73. — Christian  Examiner,  by 

A.  P.   Peabody,  vol.  26,  1838, 

pp.  182-190. 
Two  Glimpses  of.    Critic  (New 

York),  by  J.  W.  Howe,  vol.  1, 

1881,  p.  158. 
Works  of.     North  American 

Review,  by  G.  W.  Curtis,  vol. 

99,  1864,  pp.  539-557. 
Writings    of.       Universalist 

Quarterly,  by  A.  D.  Mayo,  vol. 

8,  1851,  pp.  272-293.— Church 

Review  (New  Haven),  by  A.  C. 

Coxe,  vol.  3,  1851,  pp.  489-511. 

— Christian  Examiner,  by  C.  A. 

Cummings,  vol.  78,   1065,   pp. 

89-106. — Southern  Review,  vol. 

7  N.S.,  1870,  pp.  328-354. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


IV.  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  WORKS. 


Fansliawe ....     1828 
Twice-Told  Tales— 

1st  Series       .         .         .1837 
2nd    „  ...     1842 

Grandfather's  Chair  .         .     1841 
Famous  Old  People.  (Grand- 
father's Chair)        .         .     1841 
Liberty     Tree.        (Grand- 
father's Chair)        .         .1842 
Biographical     Stories     for 

Children         .         .         .     1842 
Journal  of  an  African  Cruiser 

(Edited)          .         .        .1845 
Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse     1846 
Scarlet  Letter    .         .         .     1850 
House  of  the  Seven  Gables     1851 
True  Stories  from  History 
and     Biography.      ( The 
whole  history  of  Grand- 
father s  Chair)        .         .     1851 
The  Wonder  Book     .         .     1851 
The  Snow  Image  and  other 

Tales      ....     1851 


Blithedale  Romance  .         .  1852 

Life  of  Franklin  Pierce       .  1852 
Tangle  wood  Tales.      (Con- 
tinuation of  The  Wonder 

Book)     ....  1853 
Marble  Faun      .         .         .1860 

Our  Old  Home  .  1863 


Dolliver  Romance.  (First 
part  in  Atlantic  Monthly) 

American  Note-Books 

English  Note-Books  . 

French  and  Italian  Note- 
Books  .... 

Septimius  Felton  ;  or,  the 
Elixir  of  Life . 

Dolliver  Romance.  (Three 
parts)  .... 

Doctor  Grimshawe's  Secret 


1864 
1868 
1870 

1872 
1872 

1876 

1883 


THE  WALTER  SCOTT  PRESS,   NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE. 


GREAT   WRITERS. 

A    NEW    SERIES    OF   CRITICAL    BIOGRAPHIES 

Edited  by  Professor  ERIC  S.  ROBERTSON,  M.A. 


MONTHLY     SHILLING    VOLUMES. 


VOLUMES  ALREADY  ISSUED— 

LIFE  OP  LONGFELLOW.     By  Prof.  Eric  S.  Robertson. 
"A  most  readable  little  work." — Liverpool  Mercury* 

LIFE  OF  COLERIDGE.     By  Hall  Caine. 

"  Brief  and  vigorous,  written  throughout  with  spirit  aiid  great  literaiy 
skill."— Scottman. 

LIFE  OF  DICKENS.     By  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

"  Notwithstanding  the  mass  of  matter  that  has  been  printed  relating  to 
Dickens  and  his  works  ...  we  should,  until  we  came  across  this  volume, 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  recommend  any  popular  life  of  England's  most 
popular  novelist  as  being  really  satisfactory.  The  difficulty  is  removed 
by  Mr.  Marzials's  little  book."— Athenaeum. 

LIFE  OF  DANTE  GABRIEL  ROSSETTI.  ByJ.  Knight. 

"Mr.  Knight's  picture  of  the  great  poet  and  painter  is  the  fullest  and 
best  yet  presented  to  the  public."— The  Graphic. 

LIFE  OF  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.     By  Colonel  F.  Grant. 

"  Colonel  Grant  has  performed  his  task  with  diligence,  sound  judgment), 
good  taste,  and  accuracy."— Illustrated  London  News. 

LIFE  OF  DARWIN.     By  G.  T.  Bettany. 

"  Mr.  Q.  T.  Bettany's  Life  of  Darwin  is  a  sound  and  conscientious  work." 
— Saturday  Review. 

LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE.    By  A.  Birrell. 

"  Those  who  know  much  of  Charlotte  Bronte  will  learn  more,  and  those 
who  know  nothing  about  her  will  find  all  that  is  best  worth  learning  ID 
Mr.  Birrell's  pleasant  book."— St.  James'  Gazette. 

LIFE  OF  THOMAS  CARLYLE.    By  R.  Garnett,  LL.D. 

44  This  is  an  admirable  book.  Nothing  could  be  more  felicitous  and  fairer 
than  the  way  in  which  he  takes  us  through  Carlyle's  life  and  works."— Pail 
Mall  Gazette. 

LIFE  OF  ADAM  SMITH.     By  R.  B.  Haldane,  M.P. 

"  Written  with  a  perspicuity  seldom  exemplified  when  dealing  with 
economic  science." — Scotsman. 

LIFE  OF  KEATS.     By  W.  M.  Rossetti. 

"  Valuable  for  the  ample  information  which  tt  contains."— Cambridge 
Independent. 

LIFE  OF  SHELLEY.     By  William  Sharp. 

"The  criticisms  .  .  .  entitle  this  capital  monograph  to  be  ranked  with 
the  best  biographies  ol  Shelley." — Westminster  Review. 

LIFE  OF  SMOLLETT.     By  David  Hannay. 

44  A  capable  record  of  a  writer  who  still  remains  one  of  the  great  masters 
of  the  English  nov^L" — Saturday  Review. 

LIFE  OF  GOLDSMITH.     By  Austin  Dobson. 

44  The  story  of  his  literary  and  social  life  in  London,  with  all  its  humorous 
and  pathetic  vicissitude,  Is  here  retold,  as  none  could  tell  it  better."— 
Daily 


LIFE  OP  SCOTT.     By  Professor  Yonge. 

"  This  is  a  most  enjoyable  book."— Aberdeen  Free  Press. 

LIFE  OF  BURNS.     By  Professor  Blackie. 

"The  editor  certainly  made  a  hit  when  he  persuaded  Blackie  to  write 
about  Burns."— Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

LIFE  OF  VICTOR  HUGO.     By  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

"  Mr.  Marzials's  volume  presents  to  us,  in  a  more  handy  form  than  any 
English  or  even  French  handbook  gives,  the  summary  of  what  is  known 
about  the  life  of  the  great  poet."— Saturday  Review. 

LIFE  OF  EMERSON.     By  Richard  Garnett,  LL.D. 

"No  record  of  Emerson's  life  could  be  more  desirable." — Saturday  Review. 

LIFE  OF  GOETHE.      By  James  Sime. 

"  Mr.  James  Sime's  competence  as  a  biographer  of  Goethe  is  beyond 
question. " — Manchester  Guardian. 

LIFE  OF  CONGREVE.     By  Edmund  Gosse. 

"  Mr.  Gosse  has  written  an  admirable  biography."— Academy. 

LIFE  OF  BUNT  AN.     By  Canon  Venables. 

"A  most  intelligent,  appreciative,  and  valuable  memoir." — Scotsman. 

LIFE  OF  CRABBE.     By  T.  E.  Kebbel. 

"No  English  poet  since  Shakespeare  has  observed  certain  aspects  of 
nature  and  of  human  life  more  closely." — Athenaeum. 

LIFE  OF  HEINE.     By  William  Sharp. 

"  An  admirable  monograph  .  .  .  more  fully  written  up  to  the  level  of 
rncent  knowledge  and  criticism  than  any  other  English  work." — Scotsman. 

LIFE  OF  MILL.     By  W.  L.  Courtney. 

"  A  most  sympathetic  and  discriminating  memoir."— Glasgow  Herald. 

LIFE  OF  SCHILLER.      By  Henry  W.  Nevinson. 

"  Presents  the  poet's  life  in  a  neatly  rounded  picture."— Scotsman. 

LIFE  OF  CAPTAIN  MARRY  AT.     By  David  Hannay. 

"  We  have  nothing  but  praise  for  the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Han  nay  has 
done  justice  to  him."— Saturday  Review. 

LIFE  OF  LESSING.     By  T.  W.  Rolleston. 

"  One  of  the  best  books  of  the  series." — Manchester  Guardian. 

LIFE  OF  MILTON.     By  Richard  Garnett,  LL.D. 

"  Has  never  been  more  charmingly  or  adequately  told."— Scottish  Leader. 

LIFE  OF  BALZAC.     By  Frederick  Wedmore. 
LIFE  OF  GEORGE  ELIOT.     By  Oscar  Browning. 
LIFE  OF  JANE  AUSTEN.    By  Gold  win  Smith. 
LIFE  OF  BROWNING.     By  William  Sharp. 
LIFE    OF    BYRON.     By  Hon.  Roden  Noel. 
Complete  Bibliography  to  each  volume,  by  J.  P.  ANDERSON,  British  Museum 

Volumes  are  in  preparation  by  Arthur  Symons,  W.  E.  Henley,  Hermann 
Merivale,  H.  E.  Watts,  Cosmo  Monkhouse,  Frank  T.  Marzials,  W.  H.  Pollock, 
John  Addington  Symonds,  Stepniak,  Moncure  Conway,  Professor  Wallace, 
Lloyd  Sanders,  etc.,  etc. 


Library  Edition  of  "  Great  Writers"  Demy  8v0,   2s.  6</. 
London :  WALTER  SCOTT,  24  Warwick  Lane,  Paternoster  Row. 


Crown  8vo,  about  350  pf>.  each,  Cloth  Cover,  2s.  6d.  per 
Volume.     Half -Polished  Morocco,  gilt  top,  $s. 

Count  Tolstoi's  Complete  Works. 


JUST  READY,  COUNT  TOLSTOI'S  LATEST  NOVEL, 
THE 

KREUTZER  SONATA, 

AND 

FAMILY   HAPPINESS. 

(IN  ONE  VOLUME.) 

Some  idea  of  Count  Tolstoi's  famous 
"  Kreutzer  Sonata,"  here  given  as  a  complete 
story,  has  already  been  conveyed  to  the  public 
by  the  many  recent  discussions  in  the  reviews 
and  magazines.  It  is  extraordinary  as  a  piece 
of  artistic  presentment,  extraordinary  in  its 
ruthless  diagnosis  of  social  evils,  and  in  its  solu- 
tion of  these  evils  highly  characteristic  of  the 
author's  present  extreme  idealism. 


London :  WALTER  SCOTT,  24  Warwick  Lane,  Paternoster  Bow. 


APR  2  3.  1978  m  0 


GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 

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